A Wordy Disaster
by Lady Nightspike
Summary: New update to my long between por/rd vacation fic: Kieran and Oscar have a talk on the way to his parents' house. Pls R&R! R/S O/K, B/M, & I/S to come!
1. Innocent Conversation

So, this is my first Fire Emblem fic...though I have like sixty ideas floating through my head. Quite a lot of it is done already, and I hope to update regularly (that is, every week or so). This story was written before I played, but with the arc of events that I have in mind I don't think it's incompatible--just assume that after their summer vacation, Ike and co return to court, find that tensions have escalated, leave court (Ike resigns his lordship), reorganize as mercenaries (instead of doing reconstruction work), are hired by Bastian and mysteriously disappear.

I meant this fic to be mainly an Ike/Soren but Oscar and Kieran literally took over. There are other pairings and such, some one-sided, but my main focus is on Ike, Soren, and the three brothers with Kieran, Shinon and Mist as the main supporting characters. It's a long fic, so please be patient with the setup. The title, and the focus of each chapter, is on words...and their impact on every situation.

I posted this as humor/general because it's not really a romance so much as it is a character study, although romantic things do happen.

There are a couple companion pieces that I have in mind, but those will probably be one-shots...

Enjoy my fic and please review! After awhile it gets really depressing to have like five reviews for each story you write...

**A Wordy Disaster**

Chapter One: Innocent Conversation

Two years after the defeat of Ashnard, Ike had begged Queen Elincia for a semi-vacation. "I want to rebuild our old fortress," he told her. "It's where my sister and I grew up, where my mother is buried…even if there's nothing left by now, I would like to restore it to its former condition."

Elincia, moved by this heartfelt plea (and the fact that the Greil Mercenaries had been working for two years straight helping to rebuild the country) decided that Lord Ike could be relieved of his duties temporarily for the summer months—the best time to rebuild, and, as the fort was at the foot of the mountains, not too terribly hot. "I wish you good luck, my Lord Ike!" she said. "I am embarrassed that I have asked so much of you and yours in helping to rebuild, but that I never even thought about the place you would like to restore the most…"

"It's not a big deal," said Ike, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment. "You don't have to apologize. There were more pressing issues at hand; in fact, there probably still are. But as a whole, I think the group needs a break—no one has really had any personal time since—wow—since the year before the war ended…"

And so it was that, in the late springtime when all the plants had bloomed and the sun was approaching its solstice, the Greil Mercenaries made their way home.

What they found was both disheartening and cause for hope; no one had disturbed the structure itself. However, it looked as though Daein soldiers might have occupied it at one time and bandits at another. It was currently abandoned and almost unlivable. Ike surveyed the building carefully. "For now," he said, "we'll sleep in tents. Let's restore the kitchen first, as that is most valuable, then the common areas and bedrooms. We can do offices and such last, as they are the lowest priority—we've certainly gotten used to operating from the field."

As the news spread that Ike and his mercenaries were rebuilding their fort, they received many offers of help, which Ike politely declined. He saw the project as a family matter, something which would allow the mercenaries to bond further outside of combat or rebuilding missions. But one bright day, Kieran came riding up, greeting Oscar (who was shirtless and hauling water) with a friendly, "Hey rival! That looks like a glorious job alright! Why won't you come back with me after you're done this housework and seek real glory?"

Oscar sighed and turned his back to Kieran, saying, "Did you ride all the way out here to taunt me? I've told you a million times, I'm happy where I am."

"Well, you could have changed your mind!" said Kieran, dismounting and taking one of Oscar's buckets. "So, where do these go?"

A little while later, Lethe showed up. "You silly beorc! You can never do anything without a laguz around to hold your hand…"

"Hi, Lethe," Ike said, turning around to face her. "It's good to see you've come to show us pathetic beorc how to do the job we've been doing, for, I don't know, two years now."

After a short staring contest, Lethe hugged him and then released him as though he was on fire. "I heard the news from Queen Elincia herself. I came to show my gratitude and respect by helping you and I can stay the whole summer."

"Great! Kieran's here too. Who knows who else might show up?"

"Have you heard from Muarim and Tormod lately?" They proceeded to exchange information about their old allies. Although Ike doubted anyone else would show up (Daein and Begnion being further away and everyone being busy with their own duties), he was gladdened to see two familiar faces and knew the company would be just as touched.

"Well," said Ike, "let me show you around and you can assess the work that needs to be done. About the only thing finished is the kitchen and I'm quite pleased at how it came out…"

There was, of course, someone who was especially gladdened by the reappearance of old friends. Oscar, who would have never admitted it, did occasionally miss life as a knight, and Kieran was his link to that part of his past. Though he had no regrets—especially since working for Ike was a pleasure and carried its own special 'glory'—it was nice to see Kieran. He hoped that Kieran, ever his 'rival', would agree to spar. Oscar had missed that the most.

It was with that thought in mind that Oscar was humming in the kitchen, making a stew for dinner. His mind was wandering to the times he had shared with Kieran, both as a knight and as a mercenary.

"Hey!" said Boyd, who was cutting up vegetables (that being pretty much the only part of cooking at which he was competent). "Why are you so happy today?" His smile turned a bit sly. "Is it because of the reappearance of a certain someone?"

"So what if it is?" Oscar retorted. "It's always nice to see old friends."

The smirk got bigger, though Oscar had his back to Boyd and was therefore oblivious.

Just then, Soren entered the kitchen. "Excuse me. Oscar? Is there any chance—and I'm sorry for the short notice—that you could bake your famous pineapple cake for tonight?" He set a bundle of objects on the counter.

"Yes, it's no problem," Oscar said, smiling at Soren. "What's the occasion?"

Rolf, who was drying the dishes from lunch, said excitedly, "There's going to be a party tonight!! For Lethe and Kieran!"

"Yes," Soren said. "Exactly right. And, if you will excuse me, I have a lot of tasks to do before it can occur. Not all of us have leisure time to gossip." He swept out, as cold and swift as the wind which he summoned.

"Wow," said Rolf. "Is Soren especially cranky today?"

"He must be," Boyd replied, "because there's going to be a party. And that means that not only does Soren have to plan the entire thing, but he also needs to babysit Ike and make sure he isn't attacked by rabid fangirls while he's drunk. And then he'll retire late, take the stick out of his ass and clean it, sleep, rise early, reinsert the stick, and be twice as cranky tomorrow."

"BOYD!" shouting Oscar, turning around furiously (something which looked ludicrous in the pink frilly apron he was wearing). Rolf stifled a giggle. "Must you be so vulgar when Rolf is about? Or for that matter, when I am?"

"Oh please," said Boyd. "You know he's got a stick up there as well as I do. I doubt that anyone has ever gotten close to him because he's so prickly. He just keeps Ike from getting some because he's never had any in his whole life!!"

"Had any what?" Rolf asked while Oscar shouted, "BOYD!"

"Oh, like sex!! I get it now," said Rolf, picking up another dish.

"Sorry," Boyd said, "but hey, he knows what it is! He…" he felt short as Oscar withdrew the meat carving knife from the animal's ribs and pointed it in the direction of his own. Having no desire to turn into stew, he murmured a second, more sincere sounding, sorry.

"Maybe Soren is…jealous!" Rolf said, "he's really protective of Ike."

"Well, if there were only one person in the whole world I got along with, I'd be protective of them too," Oscar said sadly. "But Soren's so odd, it's quite probable that he has no attraction to Ike and he is just looking out for Ike's best interests."

"But then again," Boyd mused, "has Ike ever shown any interest in a girl? Ever?"

The brothers thought back through the long years they had been in the company. They had arrived when Ike was fourteen; Oscar had been hired immediately and Boyd had begun as a trainee shortly afterwards. The two brothers thought back to Ike's adolescence; Rolf plumbed his memories of spending time with and later, fighting with Ike.

"No," Oscar said finally. "But that doesn't mean anything. Ike was very young when he had the mantle of responsibility thrust upon him and he didn't have time to pursue any personal desires. He was always Greil's son, and that set him apart from the others. There also weren't many young women around…"

"But isn't it strange that he never seemed interested in them, even later on?"

"No," Oscar said. "If anything, it's gotten worse now that he's a big hero. And he's been just as busy with reconstruction as he was with commanding an army. In fact, it's been that way for all of us…I mean, when was the last time any of the mercenaries had time for a personal life?"

Boyd opened his mouth to reply, but Oscar raised the carving knife. Boyd shut his mouth and sighed in relief when Oscar stabbed the animal, not him.

"In fact," Oscar continued calmly, "that's part of the reason we have this vacation. It's to reconnect with ourselves and our own wants and needs—shut off so long because of war and duties…"

"If that's the case," Boyd said, beginning to grin, "then why don't we, if we can, engage in a bit of sport?"

"Sport?" Oscar and Rolf said as one.

"Well," Boyd said slyly, "It seems we have some questions in need of answers. Everyone will be drinking tonight and tongues will be loose. Maybe the sparks will fly! Oh," he added casually, "and I bet you one hundred gold that Ike is a virgin."

"How the hell will you find that out?" Oscar demanded. "I'm not playing your silly games!"

"I will! I will!" Rolf said, nearly breaking the dishes in his excitement.

Oscar sighed.

"It'll be easy. When everyone's in their cups…except for yours truly…I will start to talk about types of women. I'll ask Ike his opinion. If he stutters, blushes, lies, invents things, or is very ambiguous, then we'll know."

"What if he's gay?" Rolf asked.

"ROLF!" said Oscar. "That is not polite."

"I doubt it," Boyd said. "Ike isn't…girly. Not like his little protector and housemaid."

"Don't be mean, Boyd," scolded Oscar, smoothing a wrinkle in his apron. "Just because Soren is blunt sometimes does not mean you have permission to belittle him behind his back."

"I bet that Ike is gay…two hundred gold!"

Boyd, happy at the prospect of making some spending money, agreed.

"Oh you two," Oscar sighed, dropping the vegetables in the stew and stacking the dishes that Rolf had forgotten. "Take Soren's advice…go set the table, and then bring me some water for the cake batter, okay?"

"Yes, Oscar," said Rolf and Boyd.

"But," he said as they turned to go, "I will bet you both three hundred gold that Soren is interested in Ike."

"But you just said you weren't sure!"

"And I'm not," Oscar replied. "But, I think the next few weeks will settle this one way or another. You don't have to find out tonight…you can have all summer to figure that mystery out. However, if you bother Soren or if he finds out, you will both forfeit the bet."

With that last caveat, Oscar turned around and started cracking the eggs.

* * *

I apologize for the rather awkward stopping point, but there was no other way to divide things without making this chapter absolutely huge. Please review if you liked my story, or even if you didn't...then I may put the next chapter up faster!

Also, I don't own FE. If I did there would be 3-d, voice-acted cutscenes; you would be able to physically control your character and walk around the base in between battles for shopping, management, support and info conversations; and the RD Shifu swamp map would never have happened. Among many many other things (I love the game to death, but seriously...they could change the interface just a bit so it feels less like you're stuck in the 90s...)


	2. A Streamside Plot

And, here's chapter two. I have several chapters that I'm currently editing, but I'm doing NaNoWriMo and it might take over my life. Or I might ignore it (which is usual) in favor of writing fanfic. I really hope not, I want to win this year!

The whole point of this story (and its plot) is about what the FE characters might do/be like when they're not under enormous pressure. Oscar in particular, I think, is under pressure--not only is he in the thick of things, he has to worry about his little brothers as well. I think Oscar enjoys his rivalry with Kieran because it lets him relax a little bit/it brings him outside the boundaries of his normal behavior.

I'm babbling about this because I thought long and hard about where the plot would come from and whether readers would get bored of a story that focused primarily on human relationships. But inventing some sort of 'Deus ex machina' situation isn't quite what I want to do. I've read a lot of fic where the chemistry comes from the characters we know interacting in a personal manner and then-- BOOM! --the author worries that the story will be 'too boring' and then brings in a horribly shoddy external plot device. But seriously, if you have any advice about this--there will be some action/fighting going on, but there's not going to be some uber-evil or whatnot.

This fic is an experiment not only in FE characterization and development, but also in style and plot--as such, please bear with me.

***FF NET IS BEING EVIL AND HAS EATEN MY DIVIDER BARS.***

**Chapter Two: A Streamside Plot**

Though silent all the way to the stream, Boyd and Rolf both began to talk at once when they reached it.

"Do you really think Oscar—"

"How the hell are we going—"

They both broke off. "You first," Boyd said. "It's about Oscar, really?"

"You implied that…I mean, is Oscar…_gay_?"

Boyd considered for a moment. "I don't think it's that easy," he said. "He's just attached to Kieran. Remember when he talked about Soren looking out for Ike's best interests and what he said about responsibility?"

Rolf nodded.

"Well," Boyd said, "Oscar was only twenty when Mom and Dad died. He had to leave his successful fledgling career in the knights and take care of us. I think he's just attached to Kieran. This whole rivalry thing they have? It's really Oscar's terrible way of flirting, which Kieran obliviously interprets as competition."

"Wow," said Rolf. "I never even considered that!"

"Well," said Boyd, "you were still pretty young during the war. You've grown up a lot during reconstruction, Rolf, and I'm proud of that. But you probably didn't notice the things I did, the way Kieran and Oscar interacted…and Kieran left right after the war ended to help on the Daein border with the other knights in his battalion."

"I guess you're right," said Rolf. "But how are we going to help him?"

"I don't know," said Boyd. "If only we knew for sure whether Oscar even liked him! And that's not even taking _Kieran's_ feelings into account." He shook his head. "Oscar's the one who is subtle and who would normally help us with things like that. But we obviously can't ask him! We need someone who is good at reading people and has an analytical mind…"

"There he is!" Rolf shouted. Boyd turned around to see Soren.

The latter was walking along muttering quietly to himself about table arrangements and liquor volumes when he saw Boyd and Rolf getting some water. "I wonder what they are up to." He was extremely surprised when they approached him; without Oscar's gentle pushing, he was sure that Boyd and Rolf would have had nothing to do with him. Of course, whether he was grateful for that or not, he wasn't sure.

"Soren!" said Rolf. "We need your help!"

"This ought to be good…" Soren muttered, not quite to himself.

Rolf explained excitedly about his brother and Kieran, with Boyd pitching in whenever the situation got tangled up in his words. "So the gist of it is, Oscar's given up so much for us, and we want to pay him back…if we can…"

Soren was moved by their concern. He had not thought that Oscar's brothers had serious sides, or that they appreciated Oscar's sacrifices. "Well," Soren said. "Based on my observations, Kieran and Oscar share a special bond, unmatched by any of their other colleagues. A different bond, of course, than that of brotherhood—one that could simply be the result of their mutual training. They fought together for a long time and they took their first steps towards knighthood together. But it is my feeling that Oscar has been trying to become even closer to Kieran for quite some time, and it is only the silly 'rivalry'—which he plays along with for Kieran's sake because he sees it as the only acknowledgment that their relationship is special—which keeps them apart."

Boyd, who normally would have been snoring after such a long speech from Soren, nodded thoughtfully. "It doesn't help that Oscar sucks at making his feelings known. But what about Kieran? Rivalry or not, oblivious or not, what if he's not interested?"

"It is my feeling," Soren said, "that so-called rivals who are not competing for a desired third party often feel a semi-romantic tension, which manifests in attempts to impress the other by surpassing them. And since Kieran is so insistent on gaining Oscar's admiration—but not, if you'll notice, Elincia's or Geoffrey's or Ike's—it could be that he needs what he seeks from Oscar, and no one else, and that it is not for glory or standing, but for love…"

He looked at the two of them. "I will help you," he said, "because I think you're doing something nice for your brother. I will observe them tonight. If I see anything special, I will call for a glass of juice. After that point, we will rendezvous away from Oscar and Kieran and discuss. I suggest that you too, open your eyes and ears. Being observant is merely a matter of practice, something which you sorely lack." He nodded and walked away.

"Ouch," said Boyd.

"Do you think…that Ike and Soren also share a special bond?" Rolf asked him.

Boyd threw up his hands. "Don't say that! We'll lose the bet if he hears something like that! And, if you become observant, you might start chiding me all the time, so you'd better not!" He ruffled Rolf's hair and added, "One Oscar in the family is enough!"

The two walked back to the kitchen. Or rather, the loud shouting of Kieran drew them to the kitchen like a homing beacon. Kieran was vehemently 'persuading' Oscar and Oscar was bravely resisting. Boyd and Rolf nodded to each other and stopped at the door to listen.

"Stop being silly, Kieran!" Oscar said, stirring the stew vehemently. "I can't go on a vacation! I have duties here."

"PLEEEEEEEASE?" Kieran whined. Both Boyd and Rolf flinched at the whine level, though Oscar seemed immune. All that training for knighthood had made him stoic and hardy when it came to such things. "I have to tell them something really important! And it'll only be a two day trip there and back so we'll only have to stay one night!"

"Will you sleep in the stables? Because, I am never sharing a bed with you again!"

"Maybe he's going to tell them he's gay!" Rolf whispered triumphantly to Boyd, who rolled his eyes.

"But my family's been dying for me to get a promotion and come closer to home! They won't be happy when they hear that I'll be on the border of Daein! If you're there, you can distract them! They love you! Please please please please please??????????"

Even Rolf rolled his eyes. He could tell how desperate Kieran was because he had dropped all pretense of rivalry or semi-flowery speech…

"I have to stay with my brothers," Oscar said stiffly. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to bake."

Boyd burst into the room, nearly scaring the wits out of high-strung Kieran. "Hey Oscar! I heard you're going on a trip! How exciting!"

"Yeah!" Rolf chimed in. "This way you and Kieran can spend some time catching up!"

"EXACTLY!" said Kieran, grinning madly. "What better way to catch up is there than going on a lovely jaunt to my home?"

Oscar muttered into the cake batter, "Betrayed by my own family!" He looked at all of them, one by one. Resisting Kieran was one thing; hell, he could even resist both of his brothers when he had to, but resisting all of them at once? His days as an unmovable object surely were over.

Taking the water from Boyd, he stirred the batter together a little harder than was necessary. "Fine, I'll go. We'll leave two days from now and we'll be back two days after that. Any longer and I'll tell your family about the night you thought Cassie's armor was yours in the dark!"

"You wouldn't dare, squinty coward! I can tell them about the night you got drunk and thought your horse was a laguz!"

"…" Boyd and Rolf looked at each other and fell over on the floor laughing.

***ERG FFNET YOU BREAK MY HEART FIRST YOU CHANGE THE FORMAT SO I CAN'T UPDATE MY STORY WITHOUT FEELING LIKE A RETARD AND NOW YOU EAT MY PRECIOUSES!!!***

Sorry this chapter is a bit short, but Soren got roped into playing 'personal' tactician for Boyd and Rolf and chose to end the chapter out of sheer annoyance.

So, if you A support Haar with Jill, during the epilogue it says that Jill "lived with her husband in Talrega"...and it says that Haar did deliveries in Talrega. BUT IT DOESN'T TECHNICALLY SAY THEY MARRIED EACH OTHER. (Sorry, this is totally random, but I just beat the game again and I'm a bit confused about that...)

So for all we know Jill could be ruling with some schmuck we haven't even heard of while Haar lives as a commoner delivering things for people. But then again, I guess that makes more sense than the King of Talrega (or at least the Queen's Consort) running a Tellian version of UPS.

Not that Jill and Haar are going to appear in this fic for a very, very long time.


	3. Fond Epithets

My computer exploded and I don't have internet at home. I finally downloaded openoffice and now can update at work....whoohoo!!!

I have five more chapters mostly ready to upload, so expect regular updates.

A lot of randomly created backstory occurs in this chapter.

* * *

Chapter Three: Fond Epithets

As Oscar mixed the icing for the cake, he thought about Kieran, who had to be the most clueless person that he knew—no, wait, he had forgotten about Gatrie.

_Oscar, breathing just as hard as his horse, finally overtook the fiery blur that had shot off like a stray meteor at the instant the signal had been given. He had been more patient, knowing that the race was too long for anyone to keep up that pace. But surprisingly, his opponent had only slowed a little bit. Oscar admired his horsemanship—usually someone who raced a horse that aggressively ended up losing badly, and yet this man was giving him quite a challenge. Even as he had sensed Oscar coming up behind him, he had pushed his horse further than Oscar would have thought possible. Now they raced beside each other, almost like comrades._

_Barely, barely, and only because his horse was slightly less exhausted, Oscar pulled ahead and crossed the line._

_He took off his helmet, waved to the spectators, and dismounted to congratulate his tenacious opponent in a friendly manner. In the instant between Oscar opening his mouth and the words he had planned to say coming out of it, the other man had sprang off his horse, pointed at him and shouted, "You!" getting right up close to Oscar. "Villain! You stole my victory like a common knave! But I, Squire Kieran of the Knight Trainees' Second Division, will not fall for your roguish tricks!"_

_Oscar's normally polite mouth had fallen open. Thankfully, Kieran was either not used to such subtle social interactions or he just took it as a standard social reaction. He continued, "I challenge you to a rematch, coward! Name your time and place."_

"_Um," said Oscar, "I don't really race for sport."_

"_What? Surely you jest, cur."_

"_No, really, I um, only raced because my instructor encouraged me to…"_

_Thankfully, Oscar could see his friends…and Kieran's…coming to separate them._

"_Then…I challenge you to a duel!"_

"_That's against the rules," Oscar said unflappably. "How about a game of chess?"_

_Looking outraged, Kieran shouted, "Chess? You matchless villain! How dare you insult me by offering to match your wits against mine!"_

"_Yeah, Oscar, don't be such a bully," said his friend Christophe. "Why don't you pick on someone who can fight back?"_

_Some god had blocked Kieran's ears, but both his friends and Oscar's sniggered. Oscar just looked at Christophe and said calmly, "Don't be mean, Chris. Now, I am rather tired, so I am going to care for my horse and then take a nap. So, um, farewell."_

_Oscar started to walk away without waiting for another outburst from the fiery squire Kieran of the Knight Trainees' Second Division._

"_How dare you turn your back on me, you—you—you squinty liar! I know you are off to celebrate wildly with your friends!" This was the first occurrence of the million and one times that Kieran had designated Oscar a 'squinty' something or other. The first time, it was actually rather hurtful. The next million times, it was just as silly as Kieran._

"_Actually," Christophe said, "he's dead serious." He turned to follow Oscar, who hadn't looked back, though he had heard Kieran clearly._

"_O thou verdant rapscallion!" shouted Kieran, charging at Oscar. Afraid of being mauled, Oscar turned around. "For this deep, grievous insult to my person, I name you my everlasting archrival!" Kieran's friends looked openly amused as Kieran glared ineffectually at Oscar._

_Unfortunately, staring down someone with a squint is rather difficult, and after a long moment, Oscar said, "So, um, can I go now?"_

"_By all means! Turn tail! Remove your offensive presence from mine! Bask in your stolen victory! Tremble in the knowledge that I will avenge myself! Bemoan..."_

_Oscar walked further and further away, hearing the verbs 'lie', 'cheat', 'steal', 'wallow', 'roast' and 'cherish' follow him like his horse._

"…" _was about the only thought he had._

Of course, it had gotten around quickly that Kieran the Madman (whom his friends loved for his ability to amuse and everyone else avoided for his capacity to annoy) had become competitively fixated upon a mild-mannered trainee of the Fourth Division, even going so far as to call him his 'everlasting archrival'. Since Kieran's attention span was normally nonexistent, bets were placed on how long this new, one-sided 'rivalry' would last.

…the pool is still open, though most of the knights have forgotten about it, because one especially astute knight voted that it would last until Kieran died…

The funniest two parts about the whole thing were that Oscar didn't care—he even grew immune to the nickname 'Squinty' that his friends called him for weeks—okay, months—afterwards. And that whenever someone so much as _thought_ about Oscar in Kieran's presence, he would immediately embark on a heated, fanatical rant that required hours of smiling and nodding to quell.

Whenever Kieran had a free moment—or even some of the times that he didn't—he followed Oscar around like a not-so-secret-admirer, or, in other words, a stalker. He watched him fight and train and sit in class and take notes. Although they were in different divisions and should have had different class schedules, Kieran became an unofficial member of the Fourth because otherwise he would never have gone to class. They were, after all, in the same year, and Kieran _was _attending classes, just not the ones to which he had been assigned. The teachers were moderately happy because Kieran was quiet for once. Creepily quiet.

Oscar had no clue _what _Kieran was so obsessed with, anyway. His life was, though interesting in a sense, just the same as Kieran's, except probably more boring. As it had been his dream to be in the knights (and his parents were noble but poor), Oscar worked very hard compared to his peers and rarely went out or indulged in leisurely activities. And he was mildly amused by Kieran's antics, as frustrating as they were in a sense, because he had long since determined Kieran's harmlessness. Moreover, as much as Kieran disturbingly knew about him, he knew virtually nothing about Kieran.

This all changed for him one late night.

_He had an exam the next day and, as usual, was up worried sick about it. He had reached the saturation point of studying just after dinner, and now he was just fretting. He decided that perhaps a walk in the cool fall air would refresh him._

_As he walked in the extensive palace gardens and forest, he heard a rustling sound in some large bushes. Knowing Christophe's favorite activity to relieve exam stress, he approached the bushes and said, "You know you shouldn't be out here, right?"_

_Expecting to see Christophe sheepishly emerge half-clothed and shush him and send him on his way with a word of reassurance, Oscar nearly died of fright when a red-clad figure covered in blood stepped from the bushes and yelled, "YOU SNEAKY CODFISH!" right in his face._

"_Oh my God, are you okay?" There was blood running down Kieran's face and he was covered in scratches. He was holding a huge axe in his right hand. "You appear to be wounded…"_

"_I don't want your pity, villain!"_

"_Here." Oscar rummaged in his pocket for the bandages he kept on hand in case of accidents. "What are you doing anyway?"_

"_Trying to best you, you squinty fool! What does it look like I am doing?"_

"…" _Oscar had no idea how to best answer that question._

"_I heard that my sworn rival had decided to specialize in lances! Well, I chose axes specifically to show you once and for all my superior might!"_

"_By…beating up bushes?" Come to think of it, that bush _did_ look plenty terrified. Even so._

"_Only a stunted wit like yours would think that I, the great Kieran, the best trainee in the entire Second Division, would do such a thing! You simply do not understand the superior finesse required to wield an axe!"_

"_I…guess not." Since Kieran could not for the life of him tie the bandage around his forehead—Oscar strongly suspected he'd dismissed their first aid classes as meaningless nonsense—he said, "Here, let me help you."_

_Before Kieran could react, Oscar had taken the bandage from Kieran. He stepped closer and positioned the band on Kieran's head before beginning to tie it. Unfortunately, not only did this mean that Kieran was receiving aid from his 'sworn rival', but it also meant that Oscar had his arms around Kieran._

"_YOU SQUINTY TRICKSTER!" Kieran shouted. Oscar recoiled as though a bomb had been dropped between the two of them. "How dare you try to seduce me with your tender caresses?"_

_Oscar thought that was going a bit far, but he said, "Shush," to prevent Kieran from yelling any further. "Let me tie this."_

_He had not even really noticed before, but now that he had gained these mysterious 'tender caresses', he was awfully close to Kieran and, in order to reach (for they were nearly the same height) he had been forced to practically shove his chest in the other man's face. This proximity, an insignificant fact a mere moment ago, had been baptized with Kieran's words and become its own startling presence._

_He didn't know why. They weren't even touching, not really—he had his hands on the ends of the bandage and his face suspended over Kieran's shoulder. Time itself seemed to pause and consider the strangeness of the instant._

"_There," he said, shattering the silence, "now go get some sleep. How are you supposed to be my rival if you can't stay awake? Or if you 'practice' too hard and waste your strength before you even have a chance to spar with me?" Oscar didn't really want to tap into Kieran's obsession, but he figured that doing so might prevent Kieran from inflicting undue injury on himself._

"_Are you asking me to spar with you, villain?" Kieran asked, puffing back up._

"_I believe so," Oscar said._

He remembered that spar because it was the first. As though he had lit the end of a length of rope, the 'rivalry' went on and on, and he was the only one who could even partially damp the flames—yet at the same time, in order to remain in control of them, he was forced to feed them…

Things had not really changed after that night. Kieran was still himself and Oscar was still his eternal archrival. But inside of Oscar's head, things were drastically different. He had never been overly interested in romance—again, being too noble for flings and too busy for relationships had its downfalls. There had been a girl or two he had fancied, but he had neither expected nor wanted anything to come of it. Later, when he was a knight, there would be time to court someone—hopefully someone who was common-born but came from a rich family, so that both her family and his could benefit. With that duty to his family in his mind, he had shied away from getting involved with anyone.

But Kieran was different. First of all, he was male—and Oscar wasn't sure what to think about that. It wasn't as though he had blatant fantasies about Kieran or felt any strong lust for him—it was simply that, as he got to know Kieran's personality better, he would catch himself vaguely wondering what it would feel like if he had taken Kieran in his arms, or if he kissed him like he was a girl. Oscar was certain that, unless he got the chance to satisfy his curiosity, he would never know whether or not this was a real attraction or just his mind wandering. He tried to create the scenario in his mind, tried to revise the event that had passed between them—or others—to give them a romantic edge, to simulate whatever feelings actual contact with Kieran would invoke, but it was simply too unfathomable.

As soon as they had been promoted to full knights, Kieran and Oscar had been assigned together. For Oscar, this was a cruel act on the behalf of fate (or rather, the Knights' Commander). For Kieran, it was a godly intervention. For an entire year, Oscar had endured Kieran's hotheaded taunting and watched his back in the field carefully, lest he get hurt. He had also been forced to endure the teasing of the squad and the tantalizing enigma of his feelings toward Kieran. Rationally he knew that someone in his situation should hate Kieran or at least resent him, as the man was a horrible annoyance. But for some reason, Oscar looked at Kieran only in amusement, and occasionally concern.

And curiosity had gnawed at his soul from the inside, turning the entire year black and red. Even his usual patience was wearing thin and he got very moody during their last few months together. All his friends understandably attributed his demeanor to having to deal with Kieran, but they got the root cause of it wrong…

_It was late at night. Oscar's friends had gone out to explore the town they had camped near, but Oscar wanted some time to himself. He was desperately trying to regain his lost steadiness because he was terrified that soon his loss of composure would affect his performance as a knight._

_And what was better for his composure than an evening visit from Kieran? "Squinty knave!" Kieran said, almost sounding pleased. "Tonight I will grace you with my glorious presence!"_

"_Great," said Oscar. "I've been looking forward to this."_

_Little did he know how true that statement was._

_The spar had been the usual mix of might and deftness coupled with Kieran's insults and his own detached silence. But tonight, he had disarmed Kieran rather than landing a 'kill' blow—causing Kieran to charge him wildly._

_Throwing aside his own lance for fear of spitting Kieran on his own momentum, Oscar had let his guard down and Kieran had slammed into him, knocking him to the ground and placing his hands on his throat. "Yield," Kieran had said, exhaustion superseding his usual wordiness. _

_It took just that one word, that hurried contact. Shocked and ashamed, Oscar had yielded. Though Kieran was not aware of it, he had won a victory._

The last two months of that year had been terrible. Now that his curiosity had been satisfied, Oscar became just as obsessed with Kieran as Kieran was with him. He was moody and temperamental, having lost for the first time in his life his legendary composure and patience. His friends attributed his demeanor to stress over Kieran—if only they had known what cause that stress had had! But fearing ridicule or ostracization, Oscar had not dared tell anyone about his plight.

Finally, his commanding officers had noticed and had Kieran transferred, abruptly and without warning, to another division. Their reasoning was that both would function better apart from each other. While it did help to not have Kieran burning like a fire in his presence all day long, it also made him feel surprisingly lonely.

But it was not long before Oscar's father died and he had shoved down his own desires and ambitions in order to raise his brothers. With the responsibility of their care on his shoulders, he had remembered his time as a knight as though it was a distant dream, or someone else's story. It was not until he was inside that dirty cell with Kieran, bloodied and bruised, the most beautiful sight in the world…not until he had coaxed him out of his stupor and they had reentered the world together…

And Kieran was still himself, though perhaps a shade more serious; he still acted as though Oscar was his rival—though at first he scorned Oscar for leaving the knights, that soon developed into pleas for his rival's return. It was Oscar who was different, who had moved from secretly relishing accidental contact to deliberate, yet very subtle, flirtation. As usual, Kieran was immune to subtlety. But it was important not just in its goal, but in Oscar's willingness to acknowledge his attraction to the other and to expose this fact, as raw as it was, to the world.

It was better among the mercenaries, who understood and accepted Kieran for who he was, than the knights who had thought him skilled but flawed…odd and unconventional. His exuberance was endearing to them and he was a useful ally in the war.

But what had united them also kept them apart: Oscar and Kieran and every single one of the mercenaries were too busy to even think about their own lives. And, at about the very instant when the war ended in the capital, Queen Elincia had detached the remaining knights, Kieran included, to deal with pockets of resistance that still lingered.

However, now, Oscar felt, was his last chance and his best one. He would not be blatant, though Kieran might require it, because he wished to preserve his own dignity and self-respect; however, he vowed to figure out, finally, what the root of Kieran's obsession was. Then and only then could he either move on with his life and his heart or let it burn forever.

Although he had initially not wanted to visit Kieran's family—since they were all cut of the same cloth—he was now happy to have the opportunity. He wasn't quite sure how to approach Kieran…but all the same, a plan was forming in his mind…

* * *

I for one am really curious about Kieran's family...unfortuantely, that chapter isn't quite written. Let's look forward to...umm (looks up content of chapter four) the actual dinner/party!!!! (But, all of the good stuff happens in ch 5. Sorry.)

Bear with me and keep reviewing my little experiment--if you want.

Oh and I don't own Fire Emblem. If I did, we would be able to at least find out something interesting about Volke. Nothing too revealing. But, more than nothing...


	4. A Round of Provocations

Ahhahaha! I'm so very sorry! I was going to upload this chapter in a more timely fashion until I realized that it sucked and that nothing actually happened. Well, it still sucks and nothing still happens in it, but it's from Shinon's very sardonic and mildly drunk point of view...and, to be fair, stuff does happen...it's just all tacit/understated.

Expect another update soon; chapter five also needs some help but I will post it asap, maybe as a nice Christmas gift to those who are reading!

Sorry about the minimal Oscar, Kieran and Oscar/Kieran in this chapter...but I promise that next chapter will TOTALLY make up for that.

To those who have reviewed my story: Thank you so much; your suggestions are helpful although I do want to be faithful to my idea and you make me want to keep writing! So, this week I am handing out virtual Rexbolt tomes to my reviewers! Because then Ilyana can eat them (because honestly Rexie in FERD isn't good for much more than that... :-) )

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**Chapter Four: A Round of Provocations**

Dinner had been tame. Very tame. No one wanted to do much under the sober, alert eyes of the guests and the long, awkward festal table made intimate conversations difficult except with near neighbors. Shinon, down at the end next to Gatrie, had mused, "Hmm. It seems as though something interesting is bound to happen tonight."

Gatrie, ever enthusiastic had said, "Yeah! There's supposed to be some musicians here…I sure hope some of 'em are cute!"

Shinon made a rude noise in the back of his throat and went back to eating his cake.

Soren had signaled Boyd and Rolf that nothing could be ascertained at dinner; a fact which they had already discerned since Kieran and Oscar were seated at opposite ends of the table…most likely so that everyone could have a peaceful and entertaining meal. Boyd and Rolf were also scrutinizing Ike and Soren, under the pretense of 'watching Soren for signals', but they saw virtually nothing. Boyd had gotten really excited when Soren had turned up his nose at Lethe, who was seated on Ike's other side, but Rolf had pointed out that that was probably due to Soren's apparent disdain for the laguz, not jealousy.

While the plates were being cleared, Ike announced that there would be a bartender and musicians in the mess hall, where they had made space for a dance floor. At first, there was a mad rush of mingling and dancing and only a little drinking. Shinon parked himself in a corner—Gatrie alternated between sitting with him and being social—and observed, nursing his first drink.

As usual, Ikey-poo's wittle girlfriend was clinging to him with an expression on his face reserved for unamused bodyguards—although Shinon did notice that Ike had forced Soren to get a drink. He wondered if its contents would make Soren relax or explode. The look on Soren's face darkened whenever a girl got within speaking distance of Ike. "Poor little girlie looks jealous," he snickered to himself.

"Yeah, wouldn't you be if you were as pretty as Ilyana is?" Gatrie clearly had no idea what was going on inside Shinon's head or outside of it. A quick glance showed Mia and Ilyana talking ner the bar.

"That, of course, assumes that you think Ilyana is prettier than Mia—which at least one man in this room doesn't," Shinon replied. As he spoke he saw Rhys walk up to Mia and gallantly escort her onto the dance floor. "Isn't this your—"

But before he could imply that Gatrie should scoop up Ilyana now, the other was striding across the room. Shinon smirked as he thought, "If only Gatrie could move so fast all the time".

Cutting back to his original focus, he saw Boyd and Rolf looking at Soren as though they were starving men and he was a large, crimson-eyed doe. He was not surprised when Soren glared in their direction. "I wonder _what_ those two are thinking," he said into his drink.

For once he was pacing his drinking because he wanted to be sober—well, nearly sober—when whatever was riding the air finally coalesced into something observable. He wondered if Rolf would tell him what was going on, but probably not. Even Mist had been excluded from Boyd and Rolf's insular machinations. But still…"Hey Rolf! Rolf! Come here!"

Rolf came obediently, of course. He wasn't Shinon's lapdog for nothing. "What is it, Uncle Shinon?"

"Ugh, will ya stop calling me that?" Shinon gritted his teeth. His drink looked back sympathetically. It made him feel…well, old. And kind of creepy. As though creepy uncles sat in corners and observed everyone else having fun while getting sardonically drunk…he shied away from that train of thought. "Hey kid, what's going on with you and your bother? I mean, brother?"

"Um, nothing!" Shinon knew Rolf was lying because his voice had jumped up by an octave. "In fact, I've got to go, um, dance with Mist! Hahaha, nothing is happening! Okay bye!" Rolf raced away so fast that he actually tripped Gatrie, who was coming back victorious.

"I didn't even step on her toes once, Shin!" Gatrie said proudly. Normally Shinon would have torn him apart, but his attention was focused on Rolf and Boyd, whose whisperings had gotten even more secretive.

But where was the top of the triangle? Shinon found Oscar dancing with Mist, undoubtedly due to a misguided sense of chivalry. It looked as though he might _not_ be aware of whatever was going on with his brothers, although he had looked at them and flashed arcane Brotherhood of Green Hair signals a couple of times.

"People watching again?" Shinon jumped a mile, finally noticing that Gatrie was there.

"Get me another drink," he hissed as he watched Mist make her rounds of farewell. As though she were setting an example by leaving. But he was glad to see that people were retiring; he could feel the night swirling around them, and he knew that whatever was in the air would not solidify in the presence of so many guests. This was strictly family business.

It was Lethe who led him out on the floor, by the simple expedient of glaring so hard at him that he stood up to get another drink and was pulled into the crowd. He had a sort of understanding with the sub-human. After a couple of breathless dances he sat down with her and they insulted one another, matching each other drink for drink, until finally Lethe complained that he wasn't too bad "for an idiot human" and staggered out of the room. He frowned into his drink, not knowing how much time had passed.

It was Titania who was bidding everyone good night now. Shinon could feel the world spinning slightly around him. He sought the dizzying green hair of the brothers and saw something extremely odd transpire. Soren had walked between Boyd and Rolf, and, over his shoulder, uttered a single word to them before heading back to Ike. Whatever he told them, short as it was, sparked a heated discussion between the two of them.

In the end, the party found itself sitting comfortably around the remaining larger table in the mess hall—the others having been cleared to make a dance floor. Only the core of the Greil Mercenaries, its veteran members, really remained—though of course Titania and Rhys were missing. He and Gatrie were sitting on one side; Soren and Ike to their left, Boyd and Rolf across from them, and Kieran and Oscar to their right—Oscar next to his brothers. Although Shinon was temporarily surprised that Rolf had lasted that long, come to think of it, neither of the brothers had had more than half a drink. And Rolf was older now—though he suspected that intoxication was not one of his goals for the night anyway.

Apparently Shinon himself had had more to drink than he'd thought he had—damn that sneaky sub-human!—since the conversation had turned to women and, in response to a goosey remark of Gatrie's he was telling the very risqué story (though for reasons only known to him) of the Love of Gatrie's Life. This story was also known as, In Which Gatrie is Conned Out of All His Money, but sadly, these things were often synonymous as Gatrie was the perfect combination of handsome, dull, and not terribly picky.

"So," he was saying, "she tells him she has Brain Stones and that she wants to get married right away because things are bad between the war and her illness. And Gatrie just sops it all up like a cat with cream! He's crying because it's so romantic and he's such a fool—'cause of course she wants to live her life to the fullest…" Rolf was giggling uncontrollably by this point. Of course, Gatrie, good-natured as ever, was just grinning like a moron. There was affection under the scorn in Shinon's voice, and he knew that it was all in good fun.

"So then she jumps up and poetically shouts, 'Oh, woe is me! If only I had five thousand, four hundred and sixty-two gold pieces to my name! Then we could live happily ever after as we were meant to!' and Gatrie, the silly clod, says, 'Heeeeey! That's exactly the amount of money I have! What a coincidence! Shana, we're just meant to be!!!!'"

The entire party roared with pity and bemusement. "And," Shinon said, "I bet you can just _guess_ what happened after that…"

Oscar clapped Gatrie on the back sympathetically.

"And so," he concluded, "That is why Gatrie should never, ever be allowed to fall in love, ever. EVAR."

"Hey! Anyone would have fallen for her! She was the loveliest chick I've ever seen…long, flowing red hair…deep, meaningful eyes…and she didn't _look_ sick, you know?"

"I wonder why," Shinon said in mock gravity as everyone had another laugh at Gatrie's generous expense."

"Is that the sort of woman you like, Gatrie?" Boyd asked. "Because Titania has hair and eyes like that…"

"And we all know that he'll kill you if you even look at her," Rolf chipped in. Everyone laughed at Boyd, whose not-so-secret admiration of a woman fifteen years older than him was a constant source of amusement.

"Yeah, Boyd," Oscar said. "I suppose we know your type all too well."

Shinon felt anticipation building, felt the moment quickening, the challenge slapping him like a glove. Steer the conversation this way! it shouted at him. He added nonchalantly, "Gatrie loves any type of woman, though he prefers them tall and thin so he can look them in the eyes, but still feel like he's in charge." He wondered whom to pick on next, whether it was needling Oscar about his own preference—since he was pretty sure that any plot between the brothers that didn't involve Oscar, was _about_ Oscar—or indulging in a little bit of Ike-bashing. He decided that he would pick on Ike. Surely either Boyd or Rolf would question Oscar next.

"What about you, wittle Ikey? Have so many girls been dumb enough to give it to you that you actually have a preference?"

Ike, straightening himself a bit at Shinon's antagonism, slurred, "Well, you know, I like long, dark hair, like, raven-colored." Shinon's glee at the ammunition Ike had just handed him manifested in a maniacal grin. "And small and thin, you know…frail, like, someone I can protect…"

"Oh please Ike, everyone knows you're a virgin," Soren said acidly just as Shinon responded, "Aww, how cute, you're so faithful to Soren…"

Soren glared at Shinon so hard that he put a hand up to his neck to hold his head on, just in case. Ike rose and left without saying another word.

"What about you, mage?" Shinon said right before the silence became unbearable. "Is your ideal type blue-haired and puerile?"

"…" said Soren, and left.

The room started spinning. "Whoa…" Shinon said, "mushta had too much…"

Gatrie, who knew the signs said, "I think it's time for Shinon to go to sleep." He slung Shinon over his shoulder and departed.

"Good riddance," Boyd muttered. "Hey! Let's have another round!"

* * *

It's kind of a cliffie, but...good things are to come!!! Wheehehehe! Yup, Shinon's a bastard...but...he's a mean, plot-driving kind of bastard...and there is a story behind that brain stones story. A story that you may soon know as well as I do!!!

Coming next: A Christmas update. Because who doesn't read fanfic on Xmas in order to escape from one's embarrassing or annoying relatives? (Or is that just me???)

Oh, and if I owned Fire Emblem...well, let's see...ranged magic tomes would be easier to find OR have 10 uses instead of five. HONESTLY. I'm at 3-7 and I want to get the special special ending but my Soren doesn't have a ranged tome...time for the Haar, Ulki and Janaff drop and rescue mission!!!


	5. A Confrontation

It's Christmas! Well, almost Christmas for me. This is my Christmas present to everyone who is reading my story...a short chapter...but one with a KISS (gasp)! And promises of a revised sixth chapter to come. Please review; that's the best present I could ask for (since I'm in Asia and thus far away from anyone who could possibly give me physical presents (sniff sniff)). Let me know if I should continue this story or not. I know the characters are a bit out of familiar territory, but that's exactly the point of the story. A lot of fanfic tends to work off of collective ideas or impressions, so when someone tries to create a different, but still plausible, interpretation of a character (or in this case, of many characters) readers are thrown off the story. (I've been thrown off by some mighty weird things happening to characters too). It's your job to help me hold the line between OOC and plausible yet different!

Have a Merry Christmas and enjoy and most awkwardest Kieran-Oscar battle yet!

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**Chapter Five: A Confrontation**

The night was rapidly coming to an end. After Shinon had virtually killed off the brothers' chance to needle Kieran or Oscar, they had retreated into safer conversational areas, including musing about Shinon's character. They had moved to a booth, the table suddenly seeming too big. Rolf sat with Oscar and Boyd with Kieran so that the two knights could face each other. Rolf had been pouring his drinks into Oscar's cup when he wasn't looking, and Boyd had been doing the same for Kieran. So far, all they had discerned was that Oscar was a nonsensical drunk who was a little bit less mild-mannered than usual.

"So, we should be called the BROs—for Boyd, Rolf and me!" he giggled. "But, Kieran can't join because he's not our brother and then we would be BROK." Unfortunately his clever joke was lost on his brothers, who didn't understand how, if Kieran joined them, they would be broke…

"Knave!" thundered Kieran. "As if I would ever desire to associate my name with yours! You should be called the BORs for your indelible stupidity and lack of etiquette!" Kieran was a belligerent drunk, although perhaps a more appropriate nickname for him would be a belligerent _sober_. But he was less talkative than usual, his outbursts coming in spurts and thus seeming more like outbursts rather than natural exuberance.

"Stupidity?" Oscar countered. "Lack of etiquette? You were the one who tried to impress a girl by throwing poetry at her! And, I do mean, _throwing_!" Rolf giggled at the change in his brother's demeanor. Boyd caught his eye and made vehement cutting gestures across his throat, looking at the alarming number of cups on the table.

"Bah, squinty knave! You simply do not understand how a superior specimen of mankind woos a woman!" Rolf gave Boyd a look that said clearly that if Oscar was indeed interested in this loon, they should take him to a healer _immediately_. Boyd shrugged.

"Oh please," said Oscar, sounding suspiciously like Soren. "I doubt that any girl has even let you close enough to plant a slobbering kiss on her, let alone"—

Boyd reached across the table and clapped his hands over Rolf's ears. It was one thing for _him_ to be vulgar, quite another for their level-headed brother…besides, he knew Oscar would appreciate that in the morning…

"You codswalloping donkey! It would bring you to your knees to be kissed by someone as mighty as me!" Kieran declared.

"…I doubt it," Oscar replied.

"Aha! You doubt my skill and prowess?" Kieran asked, leaning forward.

"Very much so."

"Then, I will PROVE it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Kieran declared. Some of the Begnion senators woke up having nightmares about Sanaki's 'voice' manifesting as a sonic ear-destroying wave. King Dheginsea fell to his knees and begged the goddess to spare them just a bit longer: "I still haven't ever completed the Goldoa Times' Sunday crossword!" Lehran's wings fluttered briefly and he opened his mouth to sing before he remembered that he was in the middle of a crisis of faith and identity that had caused him to play chess with the entire continent of Tellius. In any case, Boyd and Rolf, those poor firsthand witnesses who weren't numbed by alcohol, suffered from recurring tintinnitus for their pains.

What happened next was almost unutterably life-scarring for them: Kieran, determined to PROVE it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! to Oscar, lunged forward, grabbed Oscar's face, and planted a kiss somewhere near, but not on, his lips. Boyd debated forcing alcohol down Rolf's throat in the hopes that he would black out and forget the night's events, but decided that he wanted to live past Oscar's hangover.

Oscar, calm as ever, wiped his chin and said, "See? That's hardly anything to write home about…"

"LIES!" thundered Kieran. "ALL SQUINTY LIES! I demand a rematch in which you face me like a man!"

Rolf starting giggling hysterically; Boyd considered taping his mouth shut but it was clear to him that Kieran and Oscar wouldn't have noticed the two of them doing a striptease on the table, let alone a measly bit of laughter.

"Come here then," said Oscar, rising from the table and standing on the empty 'dance floor', arms crossed.

Boyd made a mental note not ever to see his brother drunk again. "I feel as though we've unleashed something terrible…" he confided to Rolf.

They both watched as Kieran stood and started to give a speech. "Ever since the first day I laid eyes on you, I knew it would come to this!" At first Boyd and Rolf thought 'this' meant a romantic encounter, but sadly, that was not true. "I knew that there would finally be a contest of skill in which I would prove to you that I am your equal!"

Rolf snorted; Boyd decided that a 'facepalm' befitted the occasion. Oscar was unflappable—if also as relaxed as his brothers had seen him in years. And it wasn't just the alcohol either (thankfully). Boyd had already resolved that in the future, no evil plans they made involving their eldest brother would EVER include alcohol, EVER. As curious as he had been before this point to see Oscar drunk, he had concluded that perhaps it was better not to know. Oscar had always been more serious than his brothers, but that didn't mean he was wholly unlike them. But perhaps it was for the best that Oscar kept his silliness mostly to himself…

"I'm waiting…" Oscar's voice snapped Boyd back to reality. Indeed, for all Kieran's boasts, the fiery knight was standing there looking as though he might punch Oscar or run away from him. Rolf's eyes were the size of Duke Oliver's rings and his hands were near his mouth just in case he needed to cover his eyes. "Unless you're too scared to face me?"

"I should hardly think so! I have never once been 'too scared' to face my lifelong archrival and I certainly won't start now!" Kieran set his jaw as grimly as if he had been asked to face Mad King Ashnard on his own and started forward. It was eerily similar to his attack approach, only slower, more tentative.

Thankfully Oscar chose to save everyone involved from an eternity of waiting by pulling Kieran forward, looking at him once, briefly, as if to remember, and crushing Kieran's lips against his own. "Finally," Boyd muttered to Rolf, who was frankly staring at the two of them. "Let's go, Rolf. It's bedtime."

"But—"

"Trust me," said Boyd. "We do _not_ want to be here in five minutes. And it's way past your bedtime. Oscar will kill me in the morning—if he remembers, that is." Boyd was really, really hoping that he wouldn't.

"Okay," said Rolf, getting in one more goggle-eyed stare at his brother before the two of them fled the room. He wasn't really upset; he was tired and looking forward to going to bed. Plus, he didn't want Boyd to get in trouble with Oscar on his account.

However, he was a bit resentful because, as he left Boyd at his door and went to open his own, a voice called out, "Hey! I believe someone owes me a hundred gold!"

* * *

It did occur to me to actually host the conversation about Shinon rather than alluding to it, BUT I decided that no one would want to hear that. Besides, Shinon will get more attention soon.

I'm not happy with the retreat at the end of the chapter, but I rewrote it so many times it started to kill me so I decided to just push 'upload' and get it over with.

A preview of things to come: Chapter Six, Soren and Ike talk. Chapter Seven, the next morning (no, you can't find out what happens to Oscar and Kieran before then). Chapter Eight, Boyd + 100 gold=disaster. Chapter nine...ahhhh! The unwritten evil chapter nine!!!

This story will most likely have more than fifteen chapters but less than twenty. I'm hoping. Of course, if you're reading this and it's like three years from now or something and the story has forty-two chapters, don't be surprised.

And no matter what, no matter if the ending is Kieran dancing in nothing but a top hat, this story WILL end. I mean, I will finish it.


	6. An Apology

This chapter is short and, aptly named, An Apology. I'm sorry it's been so long...I was on vacation for two weeks in January and I'm planning another trip for next week...I'm also sorry it's so short and thoroughly unromantic/lacks O/K. The backlash from that comes next chapter. I thought I could revise this chapter and make it less angsty, but Soren just flat out refused.

For the record, I will try to update more regularly. So, Happy belated VDay, and please review. It really makes me feel better about posting this on the internet... :-)

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_Chapter Six: An Apology_

Soren waited for a long time before slipping into Ike's room. He had done it many times before, yet tonight he was nervous, cautious. After deciding that Ike would probably want to speak to him sooner rather than later, Soren had quashed his irrational fears and entered Ike's room.

Ike was, as he had predicted, awake. In fact, the lights were still on, he was still clothed, and he was reading what looked to be some letters.

"Ike." Ike didn't even look up. Soren's heart raced. Was he _that_ angry? Soren tried again. "Ike…I shouldn't have said that." It was stiff, halting, totally awkward—but totally meaningful, coming from him. "I'm so…hopeless…when it comes to…things…"

Ike looked at him for the first time since he had come in the room. In his eyes there was not anger, but compassion. "I know," he said. "I'm sorry too."

Soren suddenly, unexpectedly, wanted to scream. "Why are you apologizing to me? I'm the one who can't express anything, who can't say what I mean, who blurts things out that hurt my one and only friend…" He hated himself even more for blurting out his feelings, his helplessness, in a manner that surely would alienate them both. He went stiff when Ike put his arms around him, wordlessly shushing him.

"It's my fault," Ike said in his ear, "for rising to Shinon's bait. You're right; I don't know a thing about women and it was stupid of me to pretend I did. I'm sorry that I hurt us both."

"It's not just Shinon's fault," Soren said, "and it's hardly yours."

"No," Ike said, "it is." He released Soren and looked him in the eyes. "I could have—I should have—just laughed it off. The others would have understood…but it hurt my pride."

"Shinon's good at that," Soren said bitterly.

"Yes, he is. But still, I should have been prepared for it. I shouldn't have answered the first question…"

Soren was suddenly sick of talking about it. "Don't."

"Don't?" Ike raised an eyebrow.

"We're both sorry. We both shouldn't have done some things that we did. And we both feel as though the larger part of the blame should be ours. Why waste breath talking over it?"

Ike grinned. "It's a good question."

"What were you reading?" Soren asked, relaxed now.

Ike's grin got even bigger. "Well…it's some mail that's come for me. From women."

Soren tensed up again, but he waited to Ike to explain.

"You see, after I made a fool out of myself, I came back here and read these. They're a really good reminder of my total ignorance when it comes to women."

"Well, it's not exactly difficult to see that you attract exactly the wrong kind of female attention."

"What do you mean?"

"Ike," Soren said, "the women who wrote you these letters think your fame and fortune is attractive. They probably also find you handsome. But, if you weren't Crimea's hero, a common mercenary who became an influential lord, do you think any of these women would write you? Send you food and pictures and flowers?"

"No," said Ike. "Of course not." He shook his head. "But how do you tell who is in it for your image and who is there because of you?"

"Unfortunately, you can't really," Soren said. "But you can make a good guess. What about dating someone in the company, someone who knows you personally?"

Ike turned those great blue eyes on him and asked, "How would you feel about that?"

"_Excuse_ me?"

"Soren, you're bad enough when one of those fans comes around. What would happen if I dated someone for real?"

Soren was surprised at Ike's insight—and dismayed by his own reaction, an anguish that he had just discovered, like a long-buried treasure of pain. "It would certainly—be different. But—it's my job, as a friend, to make sure the...fans...stay away. I would be happy for you if you found someone for real." He hoped the jealousy had not leaked into his eyes, that Ike saw only what he wanted him to see. "But, it's late and you should get to bed."

"Good night," said Ike, though he was slightly confused.

"Good night, Ike," Soren said and left. He refused the impulse to slam the door.

He didn't know why he was suddenly so angry—why he felt so exposed—he supposed that Ike's words had exacerbated some feeling that was already there. And it hurt. He admitted that he was jealous of Ike's attention, but who wouldn't be, if they had only one friend?

Ike was no Gatrie, to be fooled by sweetened smiles and words. But Ike had a dangerous notion of chivalry and, as he himself had admitted, no knowledge of women whatsoever. A woman genuine enough and manipulative enough would devour him. Soren _had_ to make sure Ike was not devoured.

Lately, and with all the ambivalence that he usually applied to personal matters, Soren had begrudgingly accepted the fact that he cared about the mercenaries. Not just because Ike did—though that had been the first concession. He considered them part of Ike's family. At times he regretted the wariness, the critical eye, and the occasional condescension that kept them apart. Not always—and not everyone—but enough. Enough to make him admit that they might care about him too. He was a curiosity to them, too spiny to be a friend, yet everyone acknowledged his value as their tactician. Moreover, he recognized now that Oscar's kindness, Titania's quasi-maternal disapproval, Mist's smiles—all these things were the actions of people unsure of how to approach him, but willing to brave the spines.

But with this recognition came new waves of self-hatred. He could not tear down his walls for them, had little idea of how he had done it for Ike. He regretted his occasional frostiness, yet there were ample times when he was thankful for it. The cold truth was, he did not know how to connect, to reach out, to anyone. Even Ike. Ike had always reached out to him, touched him _despite_ the wall of ice. But Soren knew that Ike's ability was an innate gift and that it did not come so easily to others.

Unsure of what he wanted, unsure of what he could do, Soren closed his eyes and silently apologized to everyone around him, but most especially to himself. He would not be feeling this helplessness, this isolation, this jealousy, if he could count even one person more as a friend. Anguish and self-pity augmented that base belief until even someone as analytical as Soren could believe it was true.

* * *

Next chapter is...very interesting. It's kind of a triptych about waking up...which is why this chapter kind of had to come first. Trust me, Kieran's reaction is worth the wait. I will try to upload before and not after I go to Japan...so look for an update in about a week!


	7. A Rude Awakening

I tried to make this chapter a bit longer than the last. Unfortunately, there was only so much I could do...sorry it took so long, my life has exploded and I'm in the middle of an intercontinental move.

I'm finding it hard to fit all the characters I intended to in this story; however, I do want to include as much as I can, especially trying to show different sides of the character dependent on context...ie Soren with Ike vs Soren with other people, and so on for each 'main' character.

Basically, it's still Ike/Soren and Oscar/Kieran with some Boyd/Mist preromance and what could be construed as Rolf/Shinon preslash. I want to show how Boyd grows out of his infatuation with Titania and starts to 'notice' Mist...but not in a corny or stereotypical way, and explore the relationship between Rolf and Shinon. In my story, he's a bit too young for an actual relationship, but I do have a resolution planned, post-RD, for them. Moreover, I think the Rolf/Shinon interaction in FE9/10 is some of the best canon interaction that we get...maybe I'm just a sop (it's probably true) but I had tears in my eyes when they had that bit where Rolf was like, "but I never do anything for you!" and Shinon rebuts him by saying, "be better than me!" I feel like Rolf is Shinon's hope for the future--I mean, Shinon's way of giving back, especially after a life of selfishness/mercenary tendencies. He, like a parent, doesn't want Rolf to become him, but to be better than him. I was genuinely upset when their A support didn't give Shinon a special ending--despite his talents (I mean, he could have helped Rolf with his endeavors) FE10 implies that he wasted his life. That was pretty depressing.

Of course I could just be nuts.

Anyway, still don't own, because if I had, Shinon would've gotten something better at the end. Then again, that's what fanfic is for... ^.^

* * *

**Chapter Seven: A Rude Awakening**

"Hi, Shin!" The voice was like the high-pitched whine of an arrow. Unfortunately it was shot through his ear. "What are you doing here?"

The 'get out, kid' he tried to say came out as a low moan. He opened his eyes as little as possible and saw two wide green ones staring back. "What do you mean, here?" It wouldn't be the first morning that Rolf had come to bother him with that cute 'teehee I'm so innocent' look. The voice was raspy and his tongue tasted like a morgue for alcohol.

"I mean, in my bed!"

"What?" Shinon opened his eyes as wide as they could go despite the nauseating pain. Indeed, this was definitely Rolf's room. He closed his eyes again, trying to make sense of last night's events while chanting the mantra, "I'm not a drunken pedophile. I'm not a drunken pedophile" to himself.

Gatrie. Dammit. He attempted to sit up, which caused only the slightest tremble in his body. "Get off me, kid," he croaked, hoping Rolf would let him be.

Yeah right. "Are you okay, Uncle Shinon?" Rolf asked. "Maybe I should go get Rhys…" he had already turned when Shinon grabbed his arm.

"I don't want Rhys, kid." Shinon didn't want to think about the green-haired wrath he would face if anyone else found out where he had spent the night. "I want you to get me some goddamned water." He tried hard not to think about how Rolf had probably drooled all over him in his sleep. "Why didn't you wake me last night?"

Rolf turned, startled and suddenly guilty. "I tried, but you wouldn't wake up. You kept mumbling about a dinner with Gatrie…"

Shinon hoped his face was doing its best stone impression. Of all the things to dream about while drunk and in the kid's bed. "I hope it was about me poisoning Gatrie for bringing me to the wrong room on purpose."

"It's okay! I don't mind Uncle Shinon! And, it's okay! I saw you dress up! I know that you played a trick on Gatrie."

Shinon groaned and his mind gave birth to a thousand curses—which thankfully remained on the tip of his tongue. Of all the people who could have seen him dress up to fool Gatrie into giving Shinon his money (because otherwise there would have been no way for him to keep it), Rolf was the most insulting.

"I know you did it because you were worried about Gatrie, right? You didn't want him to lose all his money like he did last time." Rolf blinked at him. "You weren't just taking it from him, were you, Uncle Shinon?"

Shinon really, really hated kids. "No, I was _not_ just taking it from him, not that it's your business! And stop calling me that! I'm no more your uncle than I am your grandmother!"

"I don't know, Uncle Shin," said Rolf. "You made a pretty believable woman…"

Of all the things he _didn't_ want to think about while hungover, cross-dressing and dating Gatrie—and _shit_, actually kissing the damn fool—was on the top of the list. It was _also_ on the top of his list of things not to think about, ever. "Kid," he said, putting his arm over his eyes, "if you wanna do me one favor, you won't talk about it ever again." He was suddenly too tired to care, despite the fact that he was still in Rolf's bed. After all, he had already been there an entire night. No one would care (okay, more like no one would _know_) if he stayed a couple more hours. At least long enough for the impression that his head was rotating on his neck to wear off. "Now do me a favor and let me get some sleep, willya?"

Rolf got up. Shinon thought he was leaving, but he heard the sound of the door locking. He was mostly asleep when he felt Rolf come back and lay down on his shoulder. He opened his mouth to protest—or was in the process of getting his mouth to open—when sleep came, blasting him like the first step into sunlight after a long walk in the shadow.

*

Oscar was alive. His head hurt and his stomach felt mildly like a whirlpool, but that was to be expected. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this way—sometime during his knight training, probably. "Never again," he promised himself. The hangover felt like a weight on his chest, crushing him…

No, wait. There was a physical weight on his chest. He panicked for a minute until he realized that everything was working fine. All he needed to do was to get whatever was on his chest off.

He put his lifeless, sightless hands on the thing and tried to shove it off of him.

"Aaaaaah!" The noise was like an earthquake and he clamped his hands over his ears. He realized that he must have shoved Kieran's shoulders; the latter had been propped on him at nearly a right angle. Stranger still to his suddenly-functioning brain and eyeballs, both of them seemed to have lost their shirts. Unfortunately, what had actually happened was a total mystery. He knew there had been music after dinner and some sort of drink that Boyd had foisted on him—dammit, Boyd had succeeded in getting him drunk—and Rolf had been there? Oscar made a note to kill Boyd twice over; once for getting him drunk and twice for not sending Rolf to bed at an appropriate time—for instance, before he'd gotten drunk. And Ashera only knew what would happen if Boyd had let Rolf drink even one sip of alcohol…

Tentatively, he took his hands from his ears. The racket had stopped, although he wasn't sure that the danger was over. After all, Kieran was awake now. Oscar promised himself that it wouldn't be too bad (an obvious lie) and sat up.

The pain was overwhelming; the room felt like it was dancing with him rather than being still like a proper room. His head and stomach were pounding in time with his heart. Through eyes that felt crusted over he saw Kieran, sitting up and blinking at his surroundings. To his resentment, the knight looked about as hungover as a newborn baby.

Yet, despite the pain and discomfort he felt, he could only look at Kieran with an absurd longing—a hungover longing, but a sober one too. He was so close and his skin looked compelling, like a great work of art. His fingers twitched as though there was a magnetic force commanding them, but he knew it was all a trick. His heart felt too full, like it might explode—or was that his stomach? He looked away.

Now it really taunted him, the fact that he knew _something_ momentous had happened last night, but he couldn't quite recall _what_. As such, he was completely lost as to how to begin the conversation—a fond joke, a shared memory, a lustful whisper? His brain had chosen to replace all memories past him dancing with Mist with a red and black rebuke: YOU DRANK TOO MUCH. And tangled in that cloudy haze was the information that would help him select the correct tool in his verbal arsenal. But today he was Ike without Soren—he smiled at the thought.

It came out the first time as a scratchy croak, much like a frog with a throat wound. The second time, the impromptu "Hi there" fell out of his mouth with approximately the same grace as Boyd in adolescence. He decided that he would sell his soul for the ability to turn back time—dinner last night preferably, but the last five minutes would do…

Thankfully, Kieran was predictably immune to any kind of awkwardness. Unthankfully, Kieran was about to rage at him. Oscar promised his head a year of absolute silence if only it would endure the next few minutes—okay, who was he kidding, the next few hours. He squeezed his eyes shut in the hopes that they had magically developed the power to block out sound.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE????????"

Had Kieran taken Oscar's head in his hands and jerked, he could not have hurt it more. The roaring noise became incomprehensible and he felt his head go fuzzy. Amazingly he had retained the ability to move because—and why did everything seem so far away?—his finger was touching that pale skin—a finger like a child's, poking, insistent. He felt some displeasure at that—was that _really_ how he wanted to touch it?—but it took some time for the pieces to come together and suddenly he noticed the silence.

Kieran, spellbound, his eyes thrust forward, spitted upon Oscar's touch. Darkness clawing at him, Kieran fuzzy in response to that contact. "I'm," said Oscar after a long pause, "going to faint?"

Wherever the darkness was his eyes were upon it and life, _life_ was there touching that spark, that pale, fiery heartbeat and there he was, being and on the brink of being…

A fall.

*

Someone was knocking.

Rolf groaned. It probably wasn't even his door anyway.

The knocking continued. "Rolf?" Boyd's voice. The handle to his door jiggled.

The denial stopped flowing. Boyd's annoying voice and his annoying presence outside his locked—

Rolf sat straight up. He remembered why his door was locked. Then he panicked. What if Shinon—he dove down, placing his hands over Shinon's mouth, right as Shinon started to wake up. "Shh," he insisted as his eyes sprung open.

"Rolf? Your door is...locked." As Boyd's voice became clearer, Rolf realized that Boyd was probably half-awake and hungover.

"Uhh, I'm busy!" Rolf said. "I...uhh...hee!" Shinon had started laughing and the sensation tickled his hands. He clamped down harder. "Can you...umm...I'll see you later, okay?"

"Weirdo," muttered Boyd as he strode away, wondering if Rolf was finally hitting adolescence or something.

"I'd better get going, kid," Shinon said when Rolf finally released him. "Who knows what will happen if he comes back…"

"Okay," said Rolf. "This was fun, Uncle Shinon! I hope you come sleep over with me again!"

Shinon briefly contemplated the nightmares of that statement, shuddered and pulled himself out of bed. "Whatever ya say, kid," he said, cautiously peeking his head out the door. He didn't see anyone, so it was probably safe…

Shinon rounded the corner, heading towards his room. He wanted to change his clothes before he avenged himself on Gatrie. Unfortunately, he was so busy planning his vengeance—should it be frogs in his bed, a nice analogue to sleeping with Rolf (or maybe tadpoles would be more appropriate) or something a bit classier, like hot sauce in his armor?—that he walked right into a person.

"AHHH!" he shrieked, guilt and nerves evident. Immediately putting a hand to his head in self-inflicted hungover pain.

"HAHAHAHA!" It was Gatrie. A very awake Gatrie. A very not hungover Gatrie. A Gatrie unrepentant and fully aware of what Shinon was doing and _why_ he looked so guilty.

Shinon rapidly decided that tadpoles AND hot sauce were entirely inadequate tools to express his rage…

* * *

I think this chapter turned out to be an interesting mix of humor and seriousness. Next chapter is an interlude with Boyd, Mist and Titania. I was really shocked when Mist and Boyd had an ending together...since you know, there's kind of that fake out with Rolf in PoR...but I think it makes a lot of sense. And, I hate fics where there are NO hetero couples.

Of course, my main focus is not on hetero couples. But, statistically speaking, it just seems improbable to me when I read those fics where every guy is into every other guy or something like that...(unless it's FF7. But that's only because most of the girls in FF7 were ridiculous...)

Oh, and what are your thoughts on Shadow Dragon? I'm rather disappointed at the bland characterizations and the nonexistent storyline/rationale for where you're going/what you're doing (I'm about halfway through and so far it's just, oh, the random map says you go here...) but you don't know the shape or scope of the continent, you don't know anything about their overall strategy, and you know nothing about their characters. I've kind of made up my own story as I go along, about Marth and his epic quest for a piece of cake. I just feel like, I'm not going to know anything about these characters by the end of the game. And the gameplay is pretty easy too. So it's just like a Fire Emblem lite for me...the game without any emotional investment or need to reset...

I still think PoR was the best: tight characterization and interaction due to limited supports (though it was frustrating to try to fit everyone's supports in so no one got left out), a good but not spastic storyline, and battles that were challenging but not soul-crushingly ridiculous.


	8. Boyd's Understanding

I've been working on this interlude for awhile. Like, a LONG while. It was only going to be one chapter but it got HUGE so I split it into two. Therefore, we'll have the conclusion to this in a couple chapters and then some nice B/M asides but not much more of a focus for now. Sorry about that, but, there is just waaaaay too much going on in the story. If I get as far as I've planned, there will be some RD/post-RD resolution for them...

Thanks for the reviews, they really keep me going. Annnd, you know what that means!

* * *

**Chapter Eight: Boyd's Understanding**

Boyd stared at his 'My Axe is Broke Fund' in agony. Titania's birthday was in a few days and he had decided to use his hundred gold to get her something nice. Although Titania never made a big deal out of her birthday, Boyd had seen Greil give her something small every year, a custom stopped by his unfortunate death. He hoped that his thoughtfulness would impress her.

However, Boyd was never rich. Whatever money he made he gave to Oscar, who had a strict budget. The money he made on bets and odd jobs was his to keep, but between Gatrie's generosity and Mia's need for an occasional 'axe-wielding fool' to spar with or 'packmule' (_Rhys_ paid him for that one) he made _barely_ enough money to keep himself in axes.

In this respect he was quite jealous of Kieran, whose position as the second in command of the Royal Knights kept him well-axed (despite his breakage rate being even higher than Boyd's). Of course, Oscar gave him some money for new weapons, but it was never enough, and Boyd was too embarrassed to actually tell him that he needed more. Well, embarrassed and aware that his brothers would help him out to the detriment of their limited spending money. If anything, to come clean to them would make him feel worse. Oscar deserved to cook with high-quality ingredients and to take a relaxing break now and again, and Rolf deserved to be a kid; plus, since he was now a contributing member of the mercenaries, he also merited his own spending money.

Unfortunately, that left Boyd with very little, except what he could wile out of others or earn on the side. And that in turn gave rise to his Titania problem. Being himself, he had little idea of what to get her in the first place. A spending limit certainly didn't help. Thankfully, there was someone who could help him out.

"Mia?" he called, knocking on her door. He thought he heard someone moving inside the room, so he put his ear near the door.

"Mmm, Rhys, yes, right there," he heard. Resisting the urge to barf, he was about to walk away when the door jerked open.

"Rhys?" Rhys was fully clothed, although his sleeves were rolled up to the elbow. "Oh, sorry, was I interrupting?" He knew he was blushing but he hoped that Rhys wouldn't care.

"No, I was just giving Mia a massage."

"O—oh." Boyd tried hard not to give away what he _had_ been thinking, but Rhys just laughed at him. "No, it's not _that_."

"Not _yet_ anyway," Mia called mischievously from inside the room. Boyd fought the urge to rub his temples, thinking that Rhys might be offended by the action. "But what do you want?"

"Ah, well, I thought that you might help me with—"

"Ah, yes, that." Mia was already aware of the situation and thankfully kept him from saying it aloud. "Well, can we go tomorrow? I've got an assignment in a couple hours that might take me until nightfall."

"Well…tomorrow's the day, so I should probably just go myself then," Boyd said, not wanting to offend her.

"Oh? I thought it was two days from now. Silly me, I'm sorry Boyd! I can come now if you want…"

"I don't want to interrupt your afternoon," he said, inwardly lamenting his own selflessness. "Maybe I can ask the salespeople for advice."

"Don't do that! They're trying to get you to _spend_ money, not save it. You'll come back with a gift fit for Queen Elincia and your wallet will be empty until next year!" Boyd could practically hear her thinking from inside the room. "Why don't you take Mist with you? She might have some good ideas."

"Mist?!" He tried not to laugh at the thought. Rhys' raised eyebrows made him shut up. "She's just a kid; she won't know anything about, you know, woman stuff…"

"She might surprise you," Rhys said to him just as Mia said, "That's not true Boyd. Mist is quite the young woman now."

"That's news to me," Boyd said darkly. "But, maybe I will bring her along just in case. I'll let you get back to, um, your massage." Rhys' smirk was the last thing he needed to see. He turned on his heel and headed towards Mist's room.

As Rhys shut the door, he shook his head. "Will he ever learn?"

"Probably not," Mia replied, "but, that just means we'll have to teach him harder." It was, after all, no mistake that she had gotten an assignment today. Unfortunately, the 'assignment' was actually a day-long picnic with Rhys…if, that is, they made it out of their room…

Boyd found Mist mending some shirts. "Better than them in the kitchen I guess," he said under his breath. Even with Oscar's counterinfluence, Mist was a kitchenwrecker in every sense of the word. In fact, Ike had actually banned her from cooking in the shiny new kitchen…although he concealed this fact by giving her 'commander in training' duties that conflicted with any sort of cooking adventure. Apparently this sly ploy on Ike's behalf had been Soren's idea, which surprised no one. 'Sly' and Ike, despite sharing a similar vowel sound, really didn't have much in common.

"Um Mist," he said.

She jumped at his presence. "Geez Boyd, is that a new nickname? Ummist? And can't you make any sound?"

Boyd bit back his first response. And his second response. And the third. "I, um, kind of need your help," he said, humbly.

"Oh." She blinked at him. "I guess I can finish this later. What is it? If it's Oscar, I saw Kieran carrying him down the hallway a little earlier."

Boyd was pretty alarmed by that news, but wondered if he should interrupt them. A repeat of Rhys and Mia was _not_ in his dreams and aspirations. "Did he seem okay?"

"Just tired I think," Mist said. "I told Rhys to check in on him at dinnertime just in case, but he probably just needs to sleep."

"Okay," he said, letting his tension go. "Well, thanks for the news, but I actually kind of need help with something else…"

"Yeah?" She stood, coming no higher than his chest. "Do you want to go for a walk? I need to move around a bit."

"Sure. In fact, I was going to ask you to come shopping with me."

"Really? Oh! Well, in that case, let's go to my room; I need to get some money."

"Okay," he said. They walked, comfortably silent, to her quarters. To his surprise she invited him inside and closed the door.

"What's going on?" she asked.

He took in the room's careful decorations, the subtle female scent pervading, the stack of _Tellius Teen _on her bookcase. Apparently, he conceded, if only in his mind, this was the room of a young woman. Unfortunately that revelation made him feel uncomfortable, as though he was invading a forbidden space. "Well, I…tomorrow is Titania's birthday, and I wanted to get something for her, but I don't have a lot of money. Mia said she would help me, but she's busy…"

"Oh," said Mist, "I can help you with that! Plus, I wanted to buy some new lipgloss…" She grabbed her purse from her desk. "Alright! Let's go!"

"Okay…and thanks." She smiled at him as he opened the door for her.

"It's no problem. I've been wanting to go shopping, so this is a good excuse!"

Boyd groaned. "Does that mean I'm going to be your packmule?"

"What? No, I don't think so. What I want should fit in my purse, so I can carry it myself. Unless…"

Before he knew it, her purse was in his hands, like a foreign object invading, and she was skipping down the path. "Hey! Get back here!" The urge to throw it overcame him, but he simply could not. Not just because she probably wouldn't help him if he was mean, but also out of a desire to be…he didn't even know what, just sensed that something was there, intangible, something he didn't want to break.

"So, here we are," Mist said. Boyd tried not to pay attention to any of the details of the store. He was afraid it would show up in a nightmare someday if he did…

"Okay, so, what should I get her?"

"Hmm," Mist said. That 'hmm' was the stuff of nightmares for sure. "Maybe a…"

"Let's get this straight," said Boyd. "I'd like to get this over with as soon as humanly possible."

"Right then. In that case, do you have any suggestions?"

Boyd opened his eyes and bravely looked around. The bewildering aura of colors and scents, as though several rainbows had burst into flowers, assaulted him. He started to fondly remember their battle with Ashnard. Somehow the dragons in his army had taken on the appearance of friendly fairies compared to the employees of the store. And the Black Knight? Well, sure, he _looked_ mean, but he was just a big protective dog who was secretly fluffy on the inside. Boyd closed his eyes again and tried not to pass out. "I'm better than this," he muttered to himself.

Mist was looking at him strangely, as though he had done something odd. "Are you okay?"

"Uh, yeah, sure." Boyd put a hand to his head, not merely to soften the upcoming lie. "I just feel a bit like I'm going to get a migraine, is all."

"Oh." She bit her lip, a sign she was worried. "I didn't know you got migraines," she ventured.

Boyd didn't either. "Very rarely," he answered truthfully, adding in his head _about as often as I come here._ "Maybe you should get what you want and I'll think of ideas along the way?"

Mist walked around the store with the ease of a veteran; Boyd was wise enough to simply follow. He had already ruled out perfume as being too expensive, but he was still puzzled about what he could get Titania. So, instead of thinking about it, he watched Mist as she navigated the shop, even pausing to ask one of the terrifying salespeople some questions. He was surprised at how comfortable she seemed, because it was Mist, the girl whose life was spent doing the mercenaries' chores and looking after her father and brother. Not some frivolous country girl looking for a rich suitor, or a noblewoman constantly in the public's eye. Just Mist—but then again, who would begrudge her a little luxury?

After just a few minutes (and far less than he'd anticipated), Mist finally turned to him and addressed him. "So, have you thought of anything?"

"I'd like to get her some perfume," he admitted, "but I don't think I can afford it."

"They might!" she said. "Actually, these perfumes are pretty expensive, but there is a different kind that you should look at. It's over here."

Boyd stared at the army of bottles as though it were a multiple choice test. "Uhh, now what?" he asked, hating to convey how vulnerable he was to the enemy, yet uncertain how to proceed.

"Pick one, silly!" He noticed how Mist stared longingly at them. Although she had a selected a few items to buy, their combined cost was still less than the cost of one bottle. However, Boyd himself had enough money to buy one, which was a relief.

"Well, I'm not really good at this whole thing…" he ignored the sarcasm in Mist's eyes. "Which one would you get if you could pick?"

Immediately, without hesitation, Mist picked up a bottle and handed it to him. The label read 'Honey clover', which told him nothing. He uncapped the bottle and tried to smell it the way that a woman might, then tried to intuit the way it would smell on a woman. It was light but significant, the sweet smell (unmistakably) of honey mixed with some softer flowers and herbs. It didn't smell like dessert or like an overpowering musk of flowers, and he could easily imagine Titania wearing it. He was relieved at the choice. As much as Titania was a very beautiful woman, she certainly didn't wear any makeup. This would be a nice compromise between her personal preferences and her feminine side, he thought.

"Does it smell the same when someone is wearing it?" he asked Mist.

"Well, let's see." Mist picked up a bottle labeled 'Tester' and aimed it at him. His vision swam.

"Wait, wait!" he said. "Don't put that on _me_, how am I supposed to smell it?"

"Oh," she seemed disappointed, but thankfully her evil plan gave way to logic. "Right then." Turning over her wrist, she pressed her finger to the top of the bottle. A small puff of perfume came out. She waved her hand a bit and said, "Okay, here."

Before Boyd could react, her wrist was in front of his face. Closing his eyes, he thrust his nose towards it, inadvertently touching her wrist with the tip of his nose. On Mist it smelled wonderful, mixed with the scent of laundry soap and a vague, pleasant spice…

When he opened his eyes again, Mist's lips were slightly parted and her eyes unfocused. "I think I like this choice," he told her, though it took her a second to respond.

"Oh? Good. Then we should go back."

The walk back was swift and silent, Boyd busy thinking about how to present Titania's present to her and Mist lost in her own world. "Thanks for your help," he told her when they arrived. "I really do appreciate it."

"It was no problem," she said, although she looked sad. Boyd wondered if something had happened that he wasn't aware of, or if he had done something wrong. Unfortunately, he just couldn't make the words come to his mouth. When he looked again, she was gone.

* * *

Oh yeah, I still haven't bought the FE series. It's on my to-do list, though.

Next chapter is Oscar's quest for redemption (or at least, enlightenment) after the events of That Which We Should Not Speak Of and Shinon's quest for revenge. An epic tale of woe, shooting things off of Gatrie's head, and more woe. Or something like that.

As you may know, I'm working on some other stuff at the moment, so an update may be slightly slower than this one. And, I've put my profile up for beta reading. I'd like nothing more than to beta a few good authors, so if you're interested, let me know!


	9. Questioning, Questing, Quailing

So, it took me a long time to write this chapter because I mistakenly believed it was about Ike and Soren. Whoops!

We find out some more about O/K. Poor Oscar...I felt bad for ending this chapter when I did, but otherwise it would have been waaaaay too long. The good news about that is, Chapter Ten is already written (more Rolf/Shinon, seriously) and Chapter Eleven should be a happier one for our squinty-eyed hero.

Please review! I hope you haven't lost interest in the story due to a) me being stupid and not updating and b) me focusing on characters that you don't want to read about. The next chapter is much funnier and I'll post it probably in a couple days...if I get a review high...hopefully I get my review high (crosses fingers)...

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_Chapter Nine: Questioning, Questing, and Quailing_

Oscar woke in his own bed. A bottle of herb tonic was sitting on his nightstand, courtesy, he assumed, of Rhys. Someone must have found him.

Embarrassment hit first, then nausea. He drank the tonic as quickly as he could manage, trying to find his memories.

Kieran's white skin, his curving lips. Oscar's hand in that crimson fire-hair, taming, claiming it.

Lots and lots of alcohol.

Soren and Ike, discovering him after he had passed out a second time. Soren levitating him to his room with Ike helping…how embarrassing.

The kind concern of Rhys, his proclamation that Oscar would be fine. Rolf, curiously, peering at him and smiling at something, though Oscar wasn't sure what was funny. Boyd, laughing at him…grrr…Boyd was so dead…

There was a knock at the door. "Who is it?"

"It's me." Rolf. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm better, actually. What time is it?"

"Almost dinnertime." He could swear he heard Rolf's grin. It irritated him profoundly.

"Is it?" Splashing some water on his face, he got up shakily and started changing. "Hey, you don't know where Kieran is, do you?"

"Kieran?" Rolf asked, his tone of voice suggesting that asking after Kieran was the most unnatural thing in the world.

Oscar hoped that the face he was making while he pulled on his shirt was impressing itself on Rolf. "Yes, _Kieran_," he said standoffishly. "Where is he?" As if asking an idiot.

"Oh, he's been up for _ages_," Rolf said. Oscar _knew_ that Rolf had been hanging around Shinon waaaay too much. "In fact, he had to run an errand at the castle this afternoon. He said that he'd back be…hmm, wait? When did he say he would be back?"

"ROLF!" Oscar exploded, almost tripping out of his pants in his haste. "I know you know when he'll be back and I _know_ you know I need to talk to him, so quit playing games and tell me!"

"I'm sorry," said Rolf. "I don't think I know what you think I know you want to know…oh, look at the time! I promised Shinon I'd do his chores before dinner. Well, bye!"

"ROLF!" This time, he was ready. He yanked open the door.

No Rolf in the corridor. Instead, a stunned Mist, who had just come around the corner, was trying to control her giggles. Irritated, he swung his gaze at her. "What?"

Laughing even harder, she said, "Oscar, you, um, might want to button your shirt…the right way."

He looked down. He was not one, but two buttons off. "Oh."

Utterly sober now, he walked back into his room and began fixing his shirt. "It's time, you know," he said softly to himself, lest anyone think he had gone entirely mad (on top of getting completely drunk and coming onto Kieran…okay, so maybe it was too late for that). Lest anyone think that on top of being recklessly suicidal, he was also a danger to others (ie, not just himself and Kieran), he talked softly. "When he came back…you were so happy."

"Life is boring without you, Kieran." It was a phrase he had uttered many times, but never to the person in question. It was something he had admitted in that cell, so softly that the knight, running off to save his Queen and country, had never noticed. (Although Brom might have because Brom walked slower).

_Into the cell…he had the keys and he was faster than the others. Ike was hard on his heels, though, and without consulting each other Oscar took up the task of consoling the man further away. It was hard work, almost like resurrection, restoring these prisoners, once warriors and nobles and, well, people, to their original state. Or at least, imbuing them with the fire to escape, which the guards at the cruel prison had thrust out of them. He dismounted his horse, prepared to offer his kind words (thinking briefly what Shinon or Soren might say in the situation and smiling). He approached slowly, as though entering a sickroom._

"_Excuse me," he said. "We're here to help you."He was afraid that he'd have to use physical force to get the man moving. He slowly walked within the range of the man's personal space._

_A face looked up at him._

_Through the dirt, bruises, suffering and outrages of imprisonment, this man's spirit shone. Whether in the dirt-darkened hair, or the dull muted eyes…to him clung an aura indomitable. In fact, it was an aura…a visage…that Oscar recognized. That he had thought, if not quite never to see again, if not certain that it had been lost in the war forever, he would never connect with it. He closed his eyes as the knowledge that they might be comrades once again washed into him.  
"Kieran," he began again. The name had its own magic, lovely._

"_Oscar?" And with that one word, his entire demeanor changed. He rose up, refusing his rival's hand. The fire surged within his eyes, overwhelming in the low torchlight. But, weakened still, he had faltered. Oscar had helped him onto the horse._

"_We're here to save Crimea." That was all the explanation needed._

_Kieran draped his arms around Oscar's waist, if a bit reluctantly. "Then I, Fifth Platoon Captain Kieran of the Royal Knights of Crimea, am yours to…" (a bit of a stumble; he certainly didn't want to imply that Oscar could _command_ him or that Oscar _owned_ him or anything like that)…  
"I'm here to help." Slurring a bit (a cut lip)._

_Still, as his words were poured directly into Oscar's ear, the latter wondered how the former could not feel him shudder._

He smiled slowly. He knew what would happen next. Gathering what he needed, he wrote a note and posted it on his own door. He knew they would find it after dinner.

His horse was always ready, though today the poor thing had been a bit neglected…someone, perhaps someone with red hair and a horse of his own, had clearly seen to Oscar's horse in the meantime. Oscar smiled as he climbed into the saddle.

For him, the war wasn't just about Crimea and Daein, or the gruesome and torturous battles. It was defined by those warm eyes and that flame hair—first enticing him to train, as he struggled to regain what he had lost to that prison; then persuading him to return (yet how could he leave his family?); finally accepting that Oscar had gone his own way, had his own life, and respecting him for those choices. Yet part of him always thought that he was insane for resisting.

Among the death and disaster that had followed them—or that they had pursued—it was easy for ardeur to cool, for passions to wither. Yet Oscar's never had, not because it was invulnerable, for it achingly was, but because it burned in the form of another person.A person who, tantalizingly, belonged and didn't belong to him.

_Sleeplessly he wandered the forest. Not the greatest idea, to be out alone at night, but he was nervous about tomorrow's battle and the stray arrow wound Boyd had taken (thankfully not from Rolf, although the two of them were having 'juvenile' difficulties at the moment thanks to a loaf of bread). Everything was crushing tonight, and he hoped that the sweet air of the night would help him push back. How stupid of Boyd and Rolf. How stupid of Shiharam, to obey his orders. How awful for Jill. How terrible for all of them. What if Boyd and Rolf didn't make up and one of them was seriously injured? What then?_

_Usually, it was possible to ignore this macabre line of thought (especially since pessimism seemed to be either Shinon or Soren's specialty). But tonight, the moon was odd and slanted and the stars seemed to hang wrong and the trees groaned with the force of the wind. Tonight, it was worse._

"_Kieran," a patient voice. It belonged to Marcia, who had had lots of practice being patient and seemed to get along well with Kieran. Except now. She sounded patiently exasperated, like a person who knows a stronger emotion will just make it worse, but cannot help expressing her inner feeling…"Why won't you say something either way? We talk easily, we spar well together. I think I've learned a lot from fighting with you. And we're comrades—in this war, in service of Crimea…"_

_A voice replied. A voice that, it took Oscar a long moment to realize, belonged to Kieran. A totally and wholly serious voice. A voice that, if he hadn't heard it, he would never have suspected to exist…_

"_Marcia, I'm flattered. I really am. And you're right. But…this war isn't over. I know that maybe we should steal this moment, and wear it about our hearts like a badge, but I can't. My life is dedicated in the service of the Queen and Crimea, and to do something like that now would feel—wrong to me. I know that isn't truly the case, that the Queen and Crimea might smile upon us, but I need my purity of heart." Oscar heard the sound of a kiss being pressed…somewhere. He didn't want to see and yet he did. "So I ask you to be patient once more with me, and for us to be closer than before, but…perhaps when this war ends, we can celebrate together. Not before."_

"_Oh, Kieran…" Marcia's voice was full of…pity? "You don't have to let me down easy. I know who's really in your heart...your badge of courage and honor that you wear, despite the circumstances. I know who'll go to after the war ends, who you love."_

_Oscar strained his ears…he most certainly did not want to miss Kieran's reply. He wanted more than anything to know who this person was._

"_You…_what_?"_

_Apparently, Kieran wanted to know who it was as well. _

"_Oh, Kieran." Marcia could seriously work with the mentally ill. "You'll figure it out." Oscar could hear her walking away; even more easily could he imagine Kieran's stunned face as he tried to 'figure it out'…he gave it a couple more seconds…_

"_WAIT! MARCIA! I, ROYAL FIFTH PLATOON LEADER AND FREEDOM FIGHTER IN CRIMEA…UM, FOR CRIMEA…UM, RIGHT! KIERAN! DEMAND TO KNOW WHO…"_

"_Kieran!" Oscar said, running towards the sound of the voice. Without thinking, he put his hand over Kieran's mouth. "I know lots of people can't sleep and are awake, but what are you thinking, yelling like that? We're in enemy territory, in case you didn't notice!"_

…"_oops." At first Oscar was relieved. Kieran was actually admitting to a mistake? But then, he saw what Kieran had seen._

_Five enemy soldiers, sneaking through the trees. Drawn, of course, by Kieran's attractive figure…um, that is, loud shouting. Oscar was sort of prepared—thinking to do a sort of half-assed patrol during his insomnia, he had grabbed a lance and a bow._

_Kieran, it being late and his talk with Marcia having nothing (for once) to do with sparring, had nothing._

_Oscar tossed him the lance. "I know it's not your usual, but you'll adjust!" he said, knowing Kieran was a terror with ranged weapons…and not in a good way either._

_They fought side by side, since Oscar had a ranged weapon. Kieran managed to keep the enemy infantry off of him and he picked off two with his bow in the initial onslaught. The others retreated to the trees. Oscar was no Shinon, but he had improved a lot with his bow (sickeningly, under _Rolf's_ tutelage). _

_Hearing a sound, Kieran whirled to face him. At the same moment, Oscar aimed his bow over the other knight's shoulder and, opening his eyes, fired. "Guh!" The sound was so funny that Kieran smiled broadly and Oscar had to fight laughter._

"_What?" he asked as he noticed the other's staring. _

"_Your eyes…they're…"_

_Unfortunately, the other soldiers had chosen that moment to attack Oscar's exposed back._

He knew from Boyd and Rolf that Kieran had carried him back through the trees (he had lost both weapons though). He had woken with a gleam in his eyes to Kieran's exhausted snores—he had stayed with Oscar and finally fallen asleep. For those few hours, an odd oasis in the middle of a war (even if it was a battle-torn oasis) Oscar had believed that Kieran felt as oddly about him as he did about Kieran.

A giddy feeling, easily blamed on adrenaline and medicine and Marcia's belief in Something Else. A feeling that he had felt again, briefly, last night, and this time would not let go unexplained.

He handed over his horse as was customary (of course, everyone at the castle knew him) and asked to see Kieran. "He's with Marcia," said the servant. "They are not to be disturbed. Would you like to wait until the morning?"

He combed down his horse. He would leave right away, and see if he was in time to tear down the note from his door. He'd been foolish to think that he would see Kieran here and then go with him to his parents' house, when he was clearly the last person Kieran would want to see.

There, with his horse, who could not speak but nevertheless loved him, who depended on him but did not need him to be strong, to be resilient…he allowed the wave of tears to come. Wrapping his arms around that offered neck, surrendering to the truth of the situation, a truth that was as harsh and striking as daybreak.

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Poor Oscar...don't worry though, Kieran actually finds him tomorrow. Well, not technically tomorrow. But sort of tomorrow. And yeah, I don't own FE, PoR is awesome, I hate the Great Bridge etc etc.

Next chap preview: "Rolf, Shinon decided, was like a black hole. He just sucked up all of his abuses without taking any damage."


	10. An Innocuous Question

Tired and hoping that someone will review my story if I end on a positive, not a negative note.

Please?

This chapter contains probably the last Rolf/Shinon for awhile. Not because I hate them (au contraire...) but because I need to do many, many things with the other characters and Rolf and Shinon keep intruding...

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_Chapter Ten: An Innocuous Question_

"What is it NOW?" Rolf, needless of say, was NOT Shinon's favorite person at the moment. Although he was higher-ranked than Gatrie.

"Oh hi Shinon!" Rolf, Shinon decided, was like a black hole. He just sucked up all of his abuses without taking _any_ damage. Dammit. "I was just, um, wondering. Do people…when they like people, do they tend to like a specific sort of people?"

What the hell kind of a question was that? "What the hell are you blathering about?"

"Oh well, you know," Rolf said innocently. "Boyd and Oscar both seem to like redheads and I thought—"

"You thought nothing, kid!" Shinon was about seventy-five million times more irritated now than he had been two minutes ago. "Aren't you too young for girls anyway?"

Rolf gave him a look. The cute little kitten look. "Well, I…"

"And, you are too young to be _gay_!" Shinon thought about the note Oscar had left on his door, abandoning all reason to go tearing off after, of all people, Kieran. "And by your reasoning, your family has such bad taste in men _and_ women, when you grow up, kid, you won't even have a chance. You'll like some oblivious ass with red hair and an idiotic personality, and Ashera help us all if it's Mist…"

"Eww? Mist? No way!" Rolf got vegetables-face just thinking about it. Shinon took the opportunity to escape. Because, today was the day that he took revenge on Gatrie and _nothing_ could get in his way. He had decided to hit Gatrie where it hurt the most…right in the ladies. Well, not literally, but figuratively of course. They were going out tonight, but he had to go find some girl willing to go along with his plan while the day was still fresh…

Dressing in his nicest clothes, Shinon let his hair down, combing it carefully in the mirror. He let his mind wander. It was so strange, what Rolf had said about Mist. He could have sworn that she was his little miniature heartthrob. Why would Rolf have been so anxious about red hair and all if not…

SHIT. Letting his hair fall down, he confirmed its color in the mirror. Not that he didn't already know, he just liked the way it said to him, "You're fucked" this particular morning. He tied it up carefully. Maybe Rolf hadn't noticed.

A sarcastic version of Soren appeared in Shinon's thoughts. Before mini-Soren could even open his mouth, Shinon threw his brush on the bed. "FUCK!"

He didn't know how he had gotten there, but he was at the store, ten miles away, that he bought his hair-care products from. Thankfully, there was a horse saddled outside. He stood in front of the hair dyes, whimpering a little.

What color could he possibly do his hair? Red was obviously out, as was anything even remotely near red—ie, pink, orange, strawberry blond and certain shades of brown. Blue was out; he had no desire to look like Ike's older and infinitely hotter brother. Green was totally off limits. Blond? He toyed with the idea, then remembered Gatrie's idiotic smile, "Aw Shin, I told you it works for the ladies!" and put that back.

He was running out of colors. Gray and white were out…unless he wanted to look like a geezer. Purple was so…retarded. Black was…black was intriguing, but _Soren's_ hair was black. Ugh.

Besides, he had no idea what color the brothers would find UNattractive.

How the hell old was Rolf anyway? Wasn't he seriously too young for this kind of shit…seriously? Shinon knew he was somewhere between nineteen and five, and that was about it. He tried to think about it logically. Boyd had signed up…several? years ago, when Rolf was still very young…old enough to walk and pretend to talk coherently. Wait! Rolf was younger than Mist, who was only…fifthseventeen?

Shinon's heart sunk like a battered boat. Rolf might just be the right age to start asking stupid questions…he sincerely hoped that Rolf would end up liking girls, but…the odds of that weren't great considering his brothers. It was like hoping Rolf would turn out normal. Ha!

As he mutely made his way back to the base, he thought fleetingly about something…something he was missing…oh wait! Rhys! Rhys was a guy, which would put Rolf on the Oscar side of things, but Rhys was very much red-headed and so very unfortunately happily wedded. Smirk. Of _course_ it was Rhys! The man was so sweet, and so gentle, that Rolf had _mistaken his feelings_. Shinon shook his head. Poor delusional Rolf. Destined to be all alone until Shinon set him up with some smokin' hot gal who made him forget he'd even thought he'd pretended to like males…

As he approached, it occurred to him that it might be Titania. Perhaps Boyd and Rolf would forget they were brothers and fight a duel to the death! The thought of Rolf shooting down the green axe maniac was enormously uplifting. But he concluded that Rolf had better taste than Boyd and thus would not trouble himself over Titania.

So, it had to be Rhys, he concluded as he made his way to the stables. Without exception, the staff-user was prettier than the axe paladin—and had a much better sense of style.

"SHINON!" Rolf, he decided, was like a homing pigeon. Except without the useful capabilities thereof. "Where have you been? Why…why is your hair down?"

Rolf was staring at him oddly. Obviously, wishing he was Rhys! Perhaps even pining after the strawberry-haired bishop. Shinon dismounted, focused his gaze on Rolf. He was ready to tell him how much he pitied him, what with Mia and all. She could get pretty graphic when she wanted to brag about his…qualities…"This?" Shinon tossed his hair. "Ha! I forgot to put it up. How silly of me! Hey look, Rolf…"

"Uh?" See, Rolf wasn't even looking at him! In fact, his eyes had glazed over a bit. He didn't seem to be looking at anything. Shinon crouched down and took Rolf's chin in his hand. The boy had to listen to this much, at least.

"I understand what you're thinking," he said, boring into Rolf's eyes. "But, don't feel so bad about it." Straightening, he strode away. He looked back once to see that Rolf hadn't even moved. A strand of drool had started to run down his mouth. He wondered if the kid was okay—but then he saw Rhys heading in his direction, towards the stables.

"Aha!" he said to himself as he passed the priest. He heard Rolf recover in time to say hello. "Good," he mused to himself, "not totally useless after all."

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It's short, but it's not meant to be much more than an interlude to what comes next. Chapter Eleven: In Which Someone Finds Oscar in the Stables, and Life May Have a Ray of Hope or Three (or Not???)

Nope, still haven't bought FE. It's on my shopping list somewhere below "Small Carribbean Country" and "Teleportation Device That Actually Works".


	11. An Idiosyncratic Idiom

So I, um, suck. But yeah. Now that we've got that out of the way, thanks for all the reviews/favorites. I've definitely got my groove back, as I've already started Chapter 12 and I promise-PROMISE-a faster release. Uhh, not that that'd be hard. :p Also, I tend to write in cycles and I'm back in 'fic writing' stage.

I still don't own Fire Emblem, cuz if I did we'd be getting a real new CONSOLE game and no more of this "handheld remake" stuff. Thanks Nintendo.

Anyway, keep giving me feedback! Your reviews help keep me motivated (or guilted...)

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**Chapter Eleven: An Idiosyncratic Idiom**

Oscar shifted. He had slept in the field last evening and the training exercises had been really hard on him. Thankfully, his horse's neck was luminous with heat and soft enough for his head.

"About time!" came a voice that was, he fervently hoped, _not_ his horse. He jumped. Kieran was here already? Sighing, he turned to face Kieran—

—came back to reality. He was in the palace stables, where two living beings were looking at him in alarm. "Sorry," he said, sullen. "I thought…I don't know what I thought." His shoulders slumped.

"I heard you came to see me." Oscar's eyes shot at Kieran like Shinon's arrows. That one time. Well maybe four or five. Kieran didn't sound like himself at all—although Oscar certainly was worlds away from his usual unflappable self. "I didn't know you would come, but anyway, now that you're here, we can go see my family!"

One of Oscar's fists tensed up unwittingly. "Kieran, we should talk…"

"Nonsense!" Kieran said, brandishing his own exuberance like a weapon. "You'll feel better after you wash up and we ride out. Onward, fool! To my quarters!"

Oscar followed, shaking his head. For a moment he'd thought…nevermind. It appeared that Kieran was going to deflect. Perhaps on the ride over, once Oscar got his thoughts together and Kieran let his guard down, they could talk. Slightly cheered, readied himself in silence.

"Food?" Kieran asked as they exited his chambers once more. Oscar shook his head. "You may not remember, villain, but it's a long ride from here, and I don't want you to faint on the way there and embarrass me…" Kieran admonished.

Oscar calculated. "We're what, a half day's ride away? Surely no more than that." Kieran's glare unwavering. "Why don't we take something to eat on the way," he tried. "I'm not hungry yet."

As they walked to the kitchens, Oscar snuck a glance at Kieran. The knight's hair ran wild in places, and his chest was slightly puffed out as he walked through the halls. He looked like nothing other than a proud lion laguz, a Caineghis or a Giffca, striding through the castle in which he had a say. Mostly because everyone could hear him no matter where in said castle he was.

Kieran, however, kept looking at Oscar slyly, as if pulling a hilarious joke on him. Oscar sighed. It reminded him of the time Kieran had behaved like a normal human being for an entire day, only for Oscar to find out that it was because of a bet. As bait, Christophe had dangled the prospect of swapping his woodland training segment with Kieran's. Kieran had behaved himself because (despite the fact that it left three days earlier) _Oscar_ was Christophe's survival partner. Rolling his eyes at the memory, Oscar smiled to himself and wondered how that scoundrel was doing. No doubt pursuing a fair damsel in Gatrie-like manner, which had been his perpetual state. Christophe had been assigned to a different division—and then Oscar had left the Knights. He made a note to try to reconnect; it had really been too long.

Of course at the time the idea of a three day stint alone with Kieran had been—daunting. Oscar's fist clenched at the memory of having to save Kieran repeatedly while tracking the 'enemy'.

"What are you thinking of, villain?" Kieran said in his best 'the-Queen-is-indoors' tone as they saddled their horses.

"Our woodlands training mission," Oscar replied. A slow smile stole Kieran's face, turning it into something beautiful and rare. Oscar hurriedly disregarded it as he said, "Do you remember?"

"How could I not?" That sly smile stealing his face away. Stealing Oscar's attention too. "Having to _constantly_ watch over you to make sure you weren't making mistakes…at first, I feared that we would fail! But then I realized that it was my sacred task to make sure that you, my eternal rival, passed your woodlands training! Surely then, you would owe me a great and irredeemable debt!"

Oscar's insides lurched a little—or was it a stone in the path?—but he managed to grin. "I'm sure that I _do_ owe you a great and irredeemable debt," he said, glancing away in embarrassment. Slowly looking back, to see Kieran's reaction.

"Hmph!" Kieran said, lifting his chin in disdain. "Agreeing with me to lure me into complacency! I won't have it!"

Oscar couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips. Surely, one day he would find some way to compliment Kieran. Unfortunately, the way was neither by insult nor by compliment, which didn't leave a lot of middle ground. But it was possible, he would swear—otherwise, how could Kieran be so susceptible to competition, knighthood and honor? However, Oscar would never assume that he understood anything about Kieran completely, up to and including his fixation on their so-called 'rivalry'. Their woodlands training had occurred when Oscar was still in the stage of being perpetually-annoyed by Kieran; yet somehow they had managed to have an enjoyable time. (After Kieran had stopped leveling insults at the 'enemy' whenever a squirrel rushed by. Oscar wasn't sure if he had missed the point of the exercise entirely, or if he really believed that the forest animals were part of the attack). In any case, after the screaming had stopped, Oscar had relished Kieran's quirky company the way a proud mother enjoys the silence of her sleeping baby. That was the first time he had hit upon using Kieran's strengths against the enemy. On the third day of their trial, he had let Kieran besiege a frightened rabbit with his best pro-Crimean rhetoric. And while Kieran was yelling "THOU UNDYING SCOUNDREL" into the rabbit hole Oscar just searched for the 'pursuers' who were failing to muffle their laughter—all of a sudden, at his signal, the insanity turned into a reverse-ambush and Kieran had an actual audience for his verbal abuse all the way back to the castle (which, to Oscar, was all the sweeter for not being directed at him).

Of course, stepping over the invisible line into the castle grounds had erased any trace of Kieran's decency towards him, as he proceeded to announce very loudly and to anyone who would listen that he had carried Oscar through the test single-handedly. (Not that anyone would believe him, though his friends pretended it was true as a joke). But Oscar had learned something valuable in those scant days—how to work with Kieran. How to lead him, and, more importantly, how to follow him. As silly as that seemed, it had come in handy on several occasions during the War. "Do you remember the ravens?"

They would always know which encounter he meant—any of the mercenaries would, although Oscar and Kieran had _lived_ it—the sickening battle at Tor Garen, the gates of Daein, where Naesala himself had taken the field. Although Naesala hadn't been swift to attack, his ravens (and the enemy's ballistae) had seriously imperiled them. Reyson had begged Ike to let him speak with Naesala, and after being essentially trapped in a tight formation, Ike had sent Reyson out flanked by the two of them—because they didn't have wings, but they did have speed. Naesala seemed inclined to attack until the heron prince flashed whitely between them, nearly taking Naesala's assault until he had stopped, seemingly in mid-rush, to gape at Reyson.

Something dark flashed in Kieran's eyes. They had both known what would happen if Reyson failed. Their objective, no matter what, was to save the life of the White Prince. "I remember," he said. At the time, Oscar had tried to express some shred of his feelings for Kieran, but Kieran had said it simply enough: "To die in battle with my eternal rival is glorious...AS LONG AS HE DOESN'T OBTAIN MORE GLORY THAN ME!" He had galloped away, startling Oscar and Reyson into following him—but it had been a blessing, not having to think about it for too long or worrying about Boyd and Rolf: just doing.

"Do you ever miss the War?" he asked. They had both slowed their horses by now.

"OF COURSE NOT!" Kieran roared. "HOW COULD I MISS SUCH A GREAT THREAT TO MY COUNTRY?" Oscar rolled his eyes. He should have known not to expect—"A little."

"Huh?"

"A little, okay? Are you happy, to have drawn such blood against me?" Kieran asked indignantly.

Oscar smiled. He decided to broach the topic now, at least moderately. "Kieran, are we...you know...partners?"

"Partners?" For once Kieran didn't immediately start shouting; in fact, he seemed confused. Expectant. Letting Oscar speak.

"You know, like...together." Oscar said, feeling a bit stupid. "Like, people say our names in one breath. A duo in battle, and out of it." He longed to swallow his tongue to prevent any more words from slipping out, but his survival instinct was too strong. "Like, lifelong. Rivals. Or whatever."

Kieran turned the full force of those fiery brown eyes on him—warm and melting, they hit his gut like a cup of hot chocolate. But his words blistered. "THEN WHY DIDN'T YOU COME BACK?"

As crazily as he had rushed full-tilt at Naesala, he urged his horse into a full gallop and sped away from him.

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This will have a pretty much direct continuation after a short interlude...so stay tuned! Drop me some love...or shake a squirrel at Kieran...


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